


The Cure For Madness

by Lady_GothiKa



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dark Humor, Drug Induced Stockholm Syndrome, F/M, Fear Gas Hallucinations, Kidnapping, Madness with a dash of salt, Possessive Behavior, Rating May Change, Side Effects, Slow Build, Unhealthy Obsession, You're a first test subject to Jonathan Crane's serums, polaroids, sadistic creativity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-05-18 11:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_GothiKa/pseuds/Lady_GothiKa
Summary: He sees himself in you.He wants you to be free.Free like him.





	1. Polaroid

 Open your eyes, It’s a new beginning… or better yet, **an end.**

 

It was like waking up from a dream, except now you were now solely persisting within nightmare itself. Everything was dark, muffled and utterly out of your control. Your wrists burned coiled around your back, and out of reach. Your legs united in a bounded knot at the ankles. Moving was futile, pointless, you couldn’t even see.

But you could hear the sounds of shoes tapping and the of rubber their soles gritting on the ground as they moved closer and closer, till your heart pounded in harmony with every pat.

“Are you awake, gorgeous?”

You were wishing this was a dream, just a bad - bad - harrowing dream, driving you to remember back, before all this transpired, before the haze, the darkness and the twinge to the back of your head. You were alone, the way you preferred. Alone by yourself amongst the lights of the gleaming metropolis and a camera in hand.

It was beginning to drizzle, just several drops first, only it didn’t take before it transformed into a violent downpour.

The harmony of rain pelted tin, while the roar of water commenced surging within the gutters. You propelled back into a door frame of a boutique, yearning to seek sanctuary only to be soaked by the spatters of rain at the heels of your feet.

You were sopping wet, hair soaking at your shoulders and clothes clung to your back, trembling from the cold. But none of that mattered as long as you kept your camera dry. Not because it was expensive, but it was your favorite antique-fashioned and the first you had ever received, gifted to you by your mother on your 11th birthday. It was a Polaroid, big, bulky and so out of fashion, it reminded you of yourself.

For your entire life, you felt out of place, like an old device being thrown out for a newer upgrade. You had few friends infrequently, but they always ended up too much trouble, or maybe you never fitted in within the crowd. When you dated, it seemed the same. Often it was only one-sided, no matter what you did it was never enough and there was always - always - someone better.

Therefore, you to a point in your own existence where you simply said. “Fuck you.” to everyone.

You moved away to a strange city, gained a new place and started living a new life as a lone wolf - doing your own goddamn thing for once. Ever since you were a kid, you always wanted to be a photographer. It was your passion, your world, and everything you desired to be - to capture an image that said a thousand words, to make a moment last forever in time.

But what you didn’t know.

Life was a bitch.

And childhood illusions were the equivalent.

Your new employer had hired you on the spot after the showing of your portfolio. It had boosted your self-confidence and you were finally starting to believe you were doing good, and making yourself proud, well - until you realized the job had been listed available for the last three months because everyone in this city was terrorized shitless to be associated in media work.  
  
Not that you could blame yourself in the end, who knew a photographer Gotham Gazette was such a dangerous job. The last young woman you were filling for had been shot in the chest and had to leave town, you didn’t even know till you investigated it, her name was something beginning with the letter ‘V’ but you could no longer remember.

From tonight it had almost two weeks since you had actually taken a half decent photo for your boss. Your nerves were half the blame. It was hard to know when to push the bar - when to take the photo - would someone put a hit out on you if you did something wrong - would someone seek retribution?

At times you loathe your overwhelming emotions. You were never a crier, but you always felt on the bridge of a panic attack, and consistently always overthinking. To say you hated it was a total understatement, some part of you despised yourself more than others. Yet there was also a part of yourself that you could never understand, a hidden part. The part that always felt resentful and bitter, the part that ate away at everything the other half was - A part of you that just craved to break free - to be its own person.

And that scared you.

Cause that person was harder to control than others.

So you stood there timid, and alone within your isolated shop doorframe, waiting for the rain to stop. You wanted to go home; you had been out for hours, just hoping to get one shot to make the paper, just one…

But there was nothing as usual.  
If only someone had told you, dreams were dreams for a reason. That girlhood fantasies should stay nothing more than fantasies. You were never going to amount to anything, your life was as lame and dull as your personality. You were no-one - next time you should remember that before you embarrass yourself.

The rain subsided as your shoes slipped down from the ledge and tapped against the cement. Street lights illuminate your path as you walked along, still shivering and holding your chest tight. The streets were so different at night; it was hard not noticing it, a certain danger painted them. Dark alleyways, shading looking people in long coats, those colored fluorescent signs that blinked on and off within store windows, everything screamed fear at you.

Your gut told you to walk faster, so your pace quickened.

The hair on your arms was standing up straight, freezing you were, though you shrugged it off as you looked both ways and turned to cross the next street. It was darker on this side and the lights above you were flickering in tune with your movement.

A taxi is what you needed, you were just hoping one would come by fast, to get you out of this cold bitter rain. You could feel it now, closing your eyes, the warmth of your apartment as you opened the front door, a hot shower, some pajamas... a cozy bed - it was sounded better than amazing.

The images in your head kept you going while you walked until a loud crashing in a shop made you stop in place.

The lights were dark as you peered through the glass of the window, holding a hand over your brow. You couldn’t see anything, but you definitely heard something, something that sounded like it was falling over, or maybe even being pushed over. You moved to the front door and twisted the handle, the spring of the lock twisted slowly, yet with a nudge, it was locked tight, with nothing but a rattle of glass and wood.

Maybe it was nothing…

You were better off not getting involved.

Turning and walking away, you look back once, chewing your lip... just thinking as you glance down at your camera in your hand, wiping it clean with the end of your sleeve.

Until you hear it again, the awful sound.

You just want to turn around - ignore it, change streets...escape, go home - be alone - be… anyone but yourself. But that other half you are demanding, almost frightening… It’s curious, dangerous and full of want.

The doorknob twists in your hand again but refuses to budge. You push forward using your elbow, all your strength and weight, making the door opens with a heavy swing.

Your hand moves to the inside the doorframe, feeling around for that light switch that should be around - got it… your finger flicks it, but nothing happens, making you do it again twice to no achievement - odd. There was no power, had someone cut the power or was it something else? It would explain why there was no alarm.

You choose your steps wisely, moving onto the balls of your feet. Nothing is here, just as you saw before, but something is still nudging at you - something very strong. Placing your camera down on the front counter.

Another bang startles you, making you jump as you lift your head. It is coming from upstairs - yes… moving towards it, you see a steel bat in the corner of your eye, placed onto a rack, you grab it in your clutches. Your hands are shaking as you turn it in hand, and your fingers mold into the soft leather.

You take one step at a time, still dark, but you could hear the banging clearer and more frequently, though it’s sounding a lot less like banging more like...hitting…bashing...beating…

Leaning forward you grasp the top stair, looking over the edge, you can see what appears to be two men in a quarrel, one big and burly, at least six foot five or over. The other guy, you weren’t sure; he was on the ground getting kicked in the gut over and over...while...he laughed.

“You shouldn’t have come back here. What did you think would happen?” Another gut-wrenching sound of a kick to the gut rang in your ears, it was horrible and made you wince back, holding the bat even harder - that poor man…

“Are you fucking crazier than everyone says you are, to think you could get information outta’ me?” The large man yelled again.

“Ha, well when you put it that way…” He groaned, with another hit, but he kept on giggling. “C’mon do it again, do it again! Like old times!” He urged for another hit, begging almost.

You couldn’t stand watching any longer, every hit was as bad as if it was coming at you, how much longer could anyone take of that. But what could you do? You weren’t a street fighter, gathering courage was hard enough.

But there was no way in hell you would let someone be killed just because you’re a little scared.

If anything, you could make a distraction, that would help.

Your feet shake as you take the last step, swinging the bat in hand you run it along the rails, hitting one at a time, each ring higher than the last, forcing the large burly man to change direction and face you.

“Oh look what we have here!” He mocked you from the darkness. “You didn’t tell me you brought some lackies that you can share your beating with.” He laughed, stepping forward before he stopped and scratched his head, making your nervous jump again.

“A little girl, seriously? For fuck sake!” You watch as a hand reaches down grabs the guy on the floor, pulling him straight and resting him against the wall, throwing him back. “I guess you can watch, and maybe learn some respect while you’re at it.” He dusts his hands off.

He’s coming at you, though all you can do is see the beaten man, clutching his stomach, his white clothing soaked in his own blood. Your rage surges, making you remember all the people that have ever picked on you, people who bullied you, people who thought he could fuck with YOU.

“I wouldn’t come any closer.” You hiss, pushing your flimsy glasses up your nose. The steel bat turns in your hand.

“What the fuck did you just say, little girl?” His voice jars you on, making you swallow nervously. The closer he moves, the bigger he gets…

“Oh shit.” Escapes your lips as he grabs the end of the bat, pulling close with a forceful tug.

You pull back at the grip, but to no use, he’s over twice your size.

All your strength pools to your legs, heaving backward, you weren’t going to be his next victim - no...no…

“Girly, kick him in the balls!” The injured man coughed, laughing.

You loosen your grip as the large man steps back with your bat, and for a moment he’s off guard. Not for long.

You kick out, harder than you ever have, with all your force.

“Take that bitch!” You nervously laugh back, you can’t see much but you hear a heavy thump and soft whimper.

Your bat hits the floor, with the sound of steel clunking as it rolled across the floor where you picked it up again.

You felt good, hell; you felt amazing. You just kicked the shit outta that guy, you couldn’t stop grinning.

“I think you should say sorry.” you nudged his knee with your foot, but all you got was a hiss in response a painful groan that almost sound like ‘fuck you little bitch’

To your surprise, you felt a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back and another to the bat. “C’mon on toots, gimme the bat.” you let go instantly, giving him control. You could barely see his face under all that blood though when he passed you, the tiny bit of light glimmered against his clothes that made it seem he was wearing suspenders.

“You heard the lady uncle, say sorry!” The bat swag down against the man’s ribs with a heavy swing, followed by a painful whine. “SAY IT.”

“I...am...sorr-” He got hit again before he could finish.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you - LOUDER.”

“SORRY - just sto-” He cried again with another hit, making you step back.

The other man laughs, looking back to you for a second. “He called you a bitch then you made him your bitch, I love it! What the next hit, girly?”

You shake your head back to him, what have got yourself into. “No...I am fine.” You swallow in your throat.

“Alright, more fun for me.” He turns back, leaning on the bat like a cane. “So uncle, are you going to tell me what I wanna know or am I going to pull molars out one by one? Because that’s messy - messy job.”

You hear soft whispering going on, then some blood-curdling gurgles, before another chuckle and a loud ‘See, was that hard?’

The bat drops with a loud thump.

And shoes, those shoes move towards you as you move closer to the wall, your back hitting the window, the light starting the shine upon him and you can see his face…. HIS face.

Oh shit.

“Now - now, the question is...what do we do with you?” He smirks widely

 

 

 

 

`


	2. Red

“Are you awake, gorgeous?”

You huffed with a bag loosely hanging over your head, limbs bound tightly. Your day was really going to hell. Outta all the psycho’s Gotham had to throw at you, it had to be the craziest that caught you.

“Yes… I think.”

The bag around your head was taken off, making your eyes flutter dazedly with the sudden light. Your sites gradually floated up to your attacker, but he looked different - cleaner - he had changed from his blood-soaked clothes, yet his face still shone with the bruises and cuts from his earlier flogging.  
“Remember me? Well, do ya?” He teased, elevating your chin as he pouted his lips, sitting in front you.

Your shoulders slouched forward, they ached - bad. The back of your head even more so. You think he slammed you against the wall, but you couldn’t remember, or maybe it was the window… for a second you had to think about it, then you’re almost confident it was the window - He was going to push you out of it - you could see it in his eyes, then - he just didn’t...

“Yes, you’re Jerome.” You finally affirm back to him. His bright green eyes light up when he hears you say his name. Because you know exactly who he is, everyone in Gotham should.

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

You were unsure what that meant, did he mean the part about Arkham… the GCPD attack, Maniax, the whole circus thing with the satanic cover, then there was his death...then he wasn’t dead... Oh, and not forget the part where he had his face cut off. - Jerome Valeska had an interesting life, to say the least.

Well, that’s if he is actually alive right now, and not some kind of weird reanimated, zombie, Frankenstein.

He did have the face for it after all.

  
“I suppose.” You held back a gulp to your throat, “Are you going to kill me?”

Jerome cringed his face, rolling his neck to the side while folded his arms. “Kill ya? Ha, hell no, what a waste of pure - eh...you.” He stalled on the ‘you’ part,

Which kinda hurt your feelings, just a little.

So what was he going to do with you? What would a madman need with a hopelessly single loner and probably soon unemployed photographer?

“Then what do you want from me --” His hand lashed out and covered your lips with a gentle ‘shhh’ as if he was shushing a baby.

  
“Be quiet gorgeous and listen very - very closely.” Jerome drops his legs to the ground and paces in front of you, his hands gripping his white suspenders as he paces. “You have one task - mhm.” He mumbles, stopping in front of you. “Entertain me, make me laugh and I’ll let you go, don’t -” Jerome chuckles… “I’ll make you - my bitch.”

That didn’t sound good, none of it did. You weren’t funny; you didn’t even laugh at your own jokes…

You swallowed nervously as leaned forward grabbing a switchblade and placing it in between his teeth while he kneeled down, starting to untie your legs and arms; before pulling you up and onto your feet. You stumbled at first, pushing your glasses up your nose again, getting a good look at your surroundings. It appeared to be a house, 70’s furniture, and wallpaper, it was dim and the windows were all boarded up.

“Don’t get any idea’s toots, you run, you die - and trust me no one wants that, blood stains are a bitch to get out of carpet - and it never smells the same either, I would know… trust me.”

shock waves of fear down your spine as you straighten your clothes, still soaking wet. Jerome took a seat on the chair he tied you to, one hand reaching into pocket grabbing out a packet of cigarettes, and a black lighter. Taking one to his lips slowly and lights it up, staring you in dead eyes the whole time. “What? Like I am gonna to die of cancer.” Jerome shakes his head before pulling it from his lips with a heavy puff of smoke. “What are you standing around for? Standing blank is not entertaining. Dance monkey, dance.”

Dancing, not a good idea… you kicked his ‘uncle’ in the balls and that made him laugh, though he was the only one here...and you were guessing it wouldn’t get the same reaction if he was the one being kicked… you were practically screwed. Oh well, you had a good life... a good twenty-something years, that’s a lot more than some get, you should be thankful.

Ah, fuck it.

“Okay…” You flick your hands and shuffle on the spot, I got a joke…”Er, A dwarf, a hobbit, and elf walk into a bar…

“What the fuck is a ‘Hobbit’, toots?” Jerome tilts his head, slouching forward.

  
“Okay… okay… forget that joke…”

Embarrassing…

Shit.

  
So you try again. “Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other: “Does this taste funny to you?”

Jerome groans, palming his face with two hands. Slowly letting go, proceeding to rub his forehead, looking extremely tired. “Listen toots, imma be completely honest with you, eighteen years of child abuse is easier to take then your jokes, and that’s sayin’ a lot.”

In other words, you were D.E.A.D. he didn’t have to spell it out loud, you were already doing that in your head. You were going to die here, in this living room, by the same guy you saved because you happened to be a nice person… You should have just left things alone - you should have stayed home - you should never have moved - you should have left everything the way it was and now, now you weren’t ever going to learn from your mistakes.

“Are you going to kill me now? How?” You stepped back as he started to stand over you, it felt as if you had two left feet and your knees were trembling with every movement.

“I never said I was going to kill you babydoll, all I did was offer you a way out - cause that’s how nice I am.” He said, with a hand to his heart. “But no, you’re a bad girl, and bad girls don’t get rewards, do they?”

Your breathing escalated as he got closer and closer…

  
“You’re going to be a lot of work girly. Lucky for you I am a patient man,” Jerome smirked.

`

“Get dressed.” Jerome’s arm pulled you along forcefully into the kitchen where a table lied in the center. Some clothes where there, odd clothes and shoes in the shade of red and black. “Well, go on, time is of the essence, I think your shitty jokes gave me hemorrhage” His hand pushes your back forward with force.

As much as fresh dry clothes sounded good, getting dressed in these clothes - in front of him made you feel all kinds of sick.

You grasped the pants first, they were tight fitting and made of red tartan, with lastly a belt that threaded through the loops with a giant yellow smiley face.

“Privacy, would you mind. Please?” You ask quietly, not wanting to give him any reason to hurt you.

“No, I don’t mind.” He shrugged casually, leaning his back the wall and his eyes not moving an inch.

Well, fuck.

Your hands begin to tremble as you fiddle with the buttons, for some reason getting unchanged was the hardest thing you have ever done. Those eyes of his, even without looking at him, you knew they were burning right through you as you started slipping out of your wet clothes.

“Nice legs girly.” Jerome wolf whistled you, making you fasten your pace. Kicking your old pants to the side, and starting to shove on the new pair as fast as possible, though they were a tight fit, you got them on, and shuddered as you reached for the top - only to discover how remarkably sheer it was.

It was black mesh, but you didn’t testify, it wasn’t worth it in the end. You turned around showing him your back as you throw your top over your head and slipped the other on, only for it to clearly show your black bra underneath.

  
“Shoes and jacket, as well.” Jerome groaned again before you could react. Grabbing the studded leather jacket and throwing it on, doing up the belt. Next was the shoes, a pair of combat boots, black soles and black laces, they looked comfortable at least. Sitting on the floor you placed one on at a time, leisurely doing to the laces till you were finished.

“Alright, I am done. What next?” If Jerome wanted to be in charge, you were going to let him, it might be your only chance of getting out of here alive, so making him happy was now your first priority; even if that meant your discomfort.

 

“What’s next?” He parroted back at you, slowly pushing you back with two of his hands, lifting your feet from the ground, sitting you onto the kitchen counter. He leaned forward, nudging your legs apart for him stand chest to chest with you.

“You’re just missing a few things.” He giggles, reaching into his pocket, showing you his hand. It appeared to be a dog collar, red with studs and a diamante tagged letter ‘J’ that hang loosely at the end. “I told you I’d make you my bitch.” He chuckled, placing it around your neck and tightening it. “I think it suits you, don’t ya think toots?” his fingers straighten the ‘J’ pulling it around and adjusting it.

You nod your head immediately, “It’s beautiful, thank you...Jerome.” He was freaking insane.

“Oh, you’re welcome - but it’s nowhere near as beautiful as you, ya little minx.” His hand pinches your ass from behind forcing you to jolt up straight - right into his upcoming lips that grab your own, mid-kiss.

He tasted smokey and yet salty all at the same time, but his lips were soft and wet as they slowly pulled back.

“Mhm, such a good girl. Would ya do me a favor, beautiful?” He asked, kinking his head to the side and brushing your hair behind your ear.

You nod again. “Yes, anything for you.”

“So obedient!” He beamed. “And such good help is hard to find…” His hand reaches behind you, unaware of what he is doing, though well knowing he’s up to something, something that meant it was going to bad or worse.

“I want to take a picture with you, is that okay? While you’re all dressed up and looking smokin’ hot.”

He has your camera in his hand; he had taken it with you… at least it wasn’t left behind…  
“Of course, I’d love that.” You force a smile and place your hands slowly upon his chest, touching the elastic of his suspenders.

Jerome turns the camera around, pulling you back into a tight lock kiss as the flash goes off with a loud ‘click.’ It doesn’t take long take long for the picture to start processing, you can hear the camera rattle way as the picture starts to feed out and Jerome grasps it, flicking away from the light.

“You moaned about the camera when you were asleep. It’s special to you huh?” He asked, looking away for a second, still firmly planted between your legs.

“Yes, it was a gift.” You reply hesitantly.

“Mhm, hell of a gift toots… so you like taking pictures then?”

“I do yes. I am a photographer for the newspaper.”

“Ohh? Is that so! Nice one, gorgeous. That explains how you know my name, I bet you know a lot of things then, hm?” He rambled, turning back to you - the picture in hand.

“Not enough to make you laugh, J.” You swallow in your throat, nervous as hell.

Jerome chuckle at that comment. “Well, you made me laugh just then, cutie!” He taps your nose with the end of his finger.

“You think I am cute?” You question, making him pout his lips as he pulls the glasses off your nose and folds them to your side.

“No.” He leans in finally, brushing his lips against your cheek. “I think you’re orgasmic.” A hot breath of airbrushed your neck, making you shudder in your boots. Pulling painfully away from him, while he looked back into your eyes - all you could see in them as lust, desire and full of want…

“Why didn’t you kill me?” It was hard to ask, but the words trembled from your lips, hearing him take a large breathe himself, before pulling your chin back into line.

“I was going to toots, loose ends and all, I can’t make the same mistakes twice - witnesses are a dangerous thing. But -” He paused sucking his teeth. “The way you kicked the shit outta my uncle and that gorgeous smile after - that was the most arousing fucking thing I had ever seen.”

You don’t know how to respond after that - you become silent, simply placing your hands back onto his chest again.

“Mh, and to be perfectly honest, you remind me of myself - the way I used to be, before all this - ya know? Just a shy kid, crazy - but shy and full of potential, simply waiting in the darknesses… That’s you now baby, just think, all you gotta do is kill someone and let go, and you’ll be like me - two peas in a pod!” He giggled.

 

That made you feel a little nauseated, you had a dark side, yes… but were you even slightly insane? You weren’t sure, you didn’t believe so.

“And that would make you happy Mistah J?” His pupils dilated with the words, enchanted he was, awestruck even. You had never seen anyone look at you like that, it was if a starved lion saw a wounded animal, or better yet someone who saw color for the first time in their life - it was almost...intoxicatingly addictive. What was wrong with you?

“It would make me the happiest man in the world.” He gushed against your skin, pulling you in so tight, pressing his lips against your neck again, to the point you could feel his teeth graze your skin, making your body tingle and your curls curl within your boots.

“Too bad, we don’t have enough time to play doll...you make me feel all warm and fuzzy.” He breathed against your neck, planting a small kiss.

“Time, what about time?”

Jerome grunted, pulling away. “I got another favor to ask, and I don’t think you’re gonna like it, toots...but it’s very, very important. In fact, if play your cards right, you’ll get a reward at the end, would you like that?”

Not really, you were scared shitless. “If it makes you happy, it makes me happy.”

“Oh, such a good girl.” He giggles. “I have a feeling you’re gonna make me very happy. So here’s the deal beautiful, Imma use you as sort of a distraction - you know, play the eye candy - while Mister J brings back the bacon, got it...can ya do that baby?”

“Will I be in danger?” You ask softly, plucking his suspenders with your fingers like a harp.

“With me, toots? Always.”


	3. Checkmate

  

  
One Polaroid, two playing cards and one chess piece where laid out in front of you on a stainless steel desk. The questions of today were, “Tell us what ‘this’ means, are you working for Jerome - what are his plains?” And well, you had no idea - the only thing you knew was that when you woke up this morning, you were ducted taped vigorously to a street pole, directly outside the GCPD with only those four things on your possession - or more accurately pinned to your shirt.

After last night in the kitchen, everything went black, Jerome had said ‘Goodnight.‘ then kissed you, that was the last you remembered. Before that he said ‘improvise’ till he gave further instructions, and that you would know it when you saw it. Whatever he had in store it was meant to be oblivious, maybe that was the point… No one would get you to talk even if you wanted, and from how you looked, plus the photograph of you kissing him; it seemed like they would never believe you. Everything pointed to one conclusion, someone seeking retribution on Jerome.

And you being his ‘lover’ where straight, bang in the middle.

“Do I have to ask again?” Gordon was giving you a hard time ever since he pushed you into this cage, arms behind your back, handcuffed, he even cuffed your fucking legs to the chair. He was afraid, you could see it in his eyes. But of course, he was, he had seen Jerome at his worse, and he was the only teen then, now he was a man, and even more psychotic.

And to think, he had Jerome’s ‘lover’ for intensive purposes locked away in the heart of GCPD, shit was going to go down soon, everyone knew it. Everyone knew full well of how possessive Jerome was over what was ‘his’ and you were his brand new toy.

“I already told you.” You hissed back. Gordon and Bullock had been giving you the good cop, bad cop routine for the last few hours. They wanted everything you knew, which was zilch, but that didn’t stop them from thinking somehow you knew all his magic tricks.

“I got no freaking idea what he has planned, I don’t even know how I got outside. I am a victim - what me to spell it for you?” Gordon picks up the photograph again. He likes holding it up and showing it too you, “A victim, interesting.” He ridicules you with a taunt.

How did someone with such a thick skull get so high within these walls, it was almost draining - they had no idea who you were either, you had no past criminal history, no ID, no name to place to a face, it was driving them madder by the second.

“Tell us who you are then.” He declares again. “Give us a name.”

You shrug back lazily, without care. “It doesn’t matter who I am, I am already dead.”

“Why? Is Jerome is planning to hurt you?

Probably not, well, you assume so. He seemed quite taken with you after all - for whatever reason, you didn’t understand, no one had ever shown that kind of interested in you before… and the way he looked at you, had you feeling giddy at the Polaroid…

  
Gordon placed the photo down after you ignored him, he pushed the two cards towards you now, right front so you could see them, which didn’t help that Jerome had taken your glasses.

“Would you care to clarify the meaning?” Gordon was really starting to get on your nerves now.

The first card was a standard black ‘Joker’ from the deck of cards. The ‘J’ obviously represented ‘J’ for Jerome, or his love of jokes, you weren’t sure...but it represented him. “Jester - jokes….Jerome, I don’t know, this is your job!” You said pushing it back to Gordon.

“Good, we’re finally getting somewhere - Next.” The next card, you weren’t as sure. It was the Red Queen of Hearts, though if you were to guess and put the pieces together, that was to represent you. A queen to his heart? Maybe because you were his ‘lover.’ Again, you weren’t sure.

“A queen of hearts,” You push the card back. “I am supposed to be his lover right, bloody hell.” You roll your eyes with the words, this was only getting you more into more trouble, and today and tomorrow had been such long fucking days, your pissy sass was starting to show.

“You confess to being in a relationship with Jerome Valeska?” He made that sound so official. “Yeah we’re gettin’ married and we’re gonna have lil gingers.” You couldn’t help it, this whole situation was ridiculous, and getting on Gordon’s nerves was the only thing keeping you sane while your heart is pounding like a drum in your chest.

“Make sure to send me an invitation while being locked in Arkham.” He huffed, strutting away like he owned the place. Slamming the door in your face. He was rude, you didn’t like him. Locking you in Arkham was just a scare tactic anyway, they just wanted you to talk… Other than that your criminal status was only probable cause. They had nothing on you, other than judging you by your clothes, and one photograph.

That didn’t stop everyone from shaking their boots though, and that’s exactly what Jerome wanted. From what you could guess by his words, he wanted all the cops to be here watching, waiting for him to show, while him… He had plans of his own. You were just the distraction.

And that’s what the chess piece meant, the White King… ‘Checkmate.’

You weren’t sure how to feel about Jerome yet, it was too soon to say. He made you feel confused, conflicted even, a tiny part of you wanted to make him content. The other half was scared to do anything else.

Simply put, he scared you. He was powerful beyond measure, he had escaped Arkham twice and killed more people than anyone would probably know. If you were to leave him, to run away, there was no doubt you were dead; not even a prison apart would keep him from hunting you down if you broke his heart. But being loyal to him, keeping him happy, maybe you could just bide your time till gets sick of you like everyone else...it wouldn’t be long till he found a new girl, one more capable, one who could make him laugh…

  
Then you would be free, and that was the safest option for now - just keep him happy, and everything will be fine, if likes you and he wants you, you’re safe… As long as you keep entertained.

And that was much harder than said, much, much harder.

The door opened again, but this time it was Jimbo and his lovable sidekick Harvey Bullock.

“I need to use the bathroom.” You called, the shackles around your ankles twisted with a jingle. Jerome had put two stupid buns in your hair and you were fairly sure he had drawn something on your face by all the looks you were getting.

Harvey laughed, coffee cup in hand as he then stopped mid-chuckle and looked you dead in the eyes. “Well, crap, you should have thought about that before you wanted to be a criminal, sweet cheeks!”

“Well considering I ain’t criminal, it would be nice if you -”

You get cut off again, as he rambled on again about justice this, justice that - this law - that law. For fuck sake, just set electric chair now, your brain was already frying.

“I want a pillow.” You demanded, pressing your face against the table, tired and exhausted.

“Well, tough shit princess.” Harvey slammed his coffee down, you could hear his feet getting closer by the second. “Get up, nap time is over.”

You didn’t listen, you just closed your eyes, trying to muffle out the world...until you head was forcibly yanked up and a light was beamed in your eyes, practically blinding the shit out of you.

“WAKE UP.”

“I am up!” You yell back. You can’t even wipe your eyes because of your cuffed hands. These men were treating you like a murderer and you were a victim.

A VICTIM.

“Tell us what Jerome is planning!” His hands slam down on the table, forcing all weight back against the chair. “TELL US WHAT HE PLANNING.”

“I DON’T KNOW.”

They don’t believe you; they look at each as if you’re lying, hiding something from them, but you weren’t, and you were getting fucking sick of it quickly.

“I don’t know what he is planning, he never told me anything.” You state again, watching the two men walk around you. They’re looking at you the same way Jerome watched you got changed, their eyes scanning you for any little detail, mark, clue...and they want it, as much Jerome wanted you last night.

“He never told me - anything.” Harvey shifts on your words, pulling out the chair slowly and taking a seat. “Then why do I feel like you’re lying, what are you hiding?”

“I don’t know - We aren’t that close.” You have to be careful with your words, you can’t say that just met the guy yesterday, it would blow the whole cover - making Jerome not happy at all.

“Not close - huh? You look pretty smitten here sweet cheeks - So who’s turning on Jerome, is it Penguin, is he involved?”

Cobblepot? That was an odd accusation.

  
You could say yes, or string them on a little longer, but Jerome hadn’t given you further instructions yet, which means he wasn’t ready for whatever he was planning - you had to improvise now before they got sus.

“Harvey - Harvey, Harvey… this is a give and take world, it’s a two-way street - it takes two to tango. If you want something, you gotta’ give something in return.” You muse back to him, making your chains rattle.

“Oh, is that so? Well, why didn’t you say so?” He says that with much sarcasm, but it’s the only way to get you to talk, they’ll take it - you weren’t giving them much of an option.

“I want a pillow and to lie down, ya know without a chain and ball tied to my legs… and a fucking cookie. Got it?”

He looks back to Gordon for a moment; he says nothing, he tilts his chin upwards, you guessed that was a yes, and you were right. Before you knew it you were being unlocked and shoved back through the GCPD again and thrown into a larger cell, at least you could scratch your nose now.

It wasn’t long till a pillow was thrown at you if you could call it a pillow, it felt solid green brick - maybe you should have asked for a fluffy one, too late now.

“You get the cookie after you talk, princess. I’ll be back soon.” Harvey smirks as he walks away, they think they have everything under control now, it makes them feel safe. But it doesn’t stop everyone in the precinct from staring at you like you’re the most terrifying thing they had ever seen.

You can hear people talking throughout the building, but one voice stands out from the rest - Gordon’s. His voice is almost a yell, he’s talking to someone out of your line of site. Few words made sense, only except ‘move - prisoner - Arkham.’ From that, you could only gather he wanted to move you, use you as bait, but you were already bait - bait for another purpose


	4. KaBOOM

  
.

He was studying at you, brown eyes peering through the iron bars, some shallow-minded kid dressed as a man with no name you wish to know. He follows your every movement, he’s not only just watching, but he’s also sightseeing.

You can tell what he wants to know, it’s on everyone’s mind and lips, not just his. What does Valeska want with you? They don’t understand what he sees; you don’t see it. Hell, you’re not even sure what HE sees. For all you can grasp, you’re just a means to an end. This is all just some be some big trick. Perhaps you’re just another chess piece, a pawn ready to be kicked off the board, but maybe you’re not. As time advances on, your mind starts going over the small details, parts that were undoubtedly overlooked before, when your mind was - oddly obscure.

And your arm is itchy, itchy, almost as if it had been bitten by a large mosquito. You can’t think straight, between scratching your arm redraw and incoming thoughts that were scrambling your subconscious all at once.

You can overhear someone talking to policeman Gordon. He is a face with a name you can not place, tall and in a grey suit with a tie. He doesn’t look like a cop, maybe that’s why he is here, doing something their thick skulls can’t. You watch closer holding your pillow, being careful not to move from your seat. The unknown man is holding one of the cards, and you can barely hear them at all.

“The Queen of Hearts? Perhaps it has something to do with Tetch?”

Gordon muttered something in return, although it was unclear.

“The Queen of Hearts - Alice in Wonderland.” There was a rustle to his voice.

“Tetch escaped with Jerome and Crane, with enough reason he could turn - but why.”

That time you heard Gordon speak. It raised questions in your mind, you were in Jerome’s ‘residence.’ But you saw no sign of either Crane or Tetch in the whole time you were there. The only thing you knew for certain was that Jerome was plotting something, something that required diversion at this point in time, which was something he was doing when you met him...something he wanted badly enough to escape Arkham for and gather a group.

But what was it?

  
“Gordon!” You don’t know why you called him over, but your heart is hurling within your chest, to the point it was almost hurting. You felt dizzy, unsettled and your hands are trembling as you seize the bars.

He’s now running over to you at a steady pace, with the other man at his side. “Jerome’s planning something, something big - you have too - have…” Breathless words end on empty lips, what were you thinking? What was happening… You couldn’t think, your knees buckled under your own weight collapsing to the ground? Sleep, you needed rest… or…

“Get the key, something is wrong with the prisoner.” You hear someone yell, an unknown voice. A key enters the lock with the clunk of iron, your face pressed against the bars and knees to the ground. Just before the door opens everything spaces out. -

“Captain, come quickly!”

Your head turns, and you are shocked by what you see from the doors. A large purple box fastened in an electric green ribbon wrapped twice with a massive bow.

Everyone is leaving from their seats. Gordon is yelling, telling everyone to evacuate.

Only Harvey, Gordon, the unknown man and yourself remain.

They're yelling amongst themselves, around the box - you watch though everything is still a haze.

“It’s ticking, Jim - we need to get out of here!”

“ - We can’t leave, that’s what they want!”

“Lucius, can you disarm a bomb?”

A bomb, here? You begin to scramble across the floor on your palms and knees. Your fingers clawed at the ground pulling yourself like a dead weight. Grabbing the cell door, you hoist yourself up onto your legs. A hand reaches through the bar, the key is still fastened within the lock. You glance back at the door and the three men, Gordon is pulling the large green ribbon.

The key twists gradually through the pulsations of your fingers. Something is horribly wrong with you. You can feel something surging through your veins, blazing like fire, where you drugged?

It finally unlocks. You stumble forward straight into a desk, making it wobble and causing a mug full of pencils to rock off, shattering onto the ground.

The box is almost open; they are pulling back the lid while the sides burst free. Hundreds of thousands of cards scatter out over the ground, all the same, all the Red Queen of Hearts. Hands delve in deep, sifting, searching, heaving…

“It’s at the bottom, I can feel something…”

“Is that a…”

Your breath pauses, as you kneel behind the desk, eyes observing while remaining hidden.

“It’s a toy -”

“Well played.” The unfamiliar says along with a chuckle. “Wind up teeth, how unusual.”

  
“Crap! -” Harvey seizes the still chattering teeth in his hands, “Shit - call everyone back! How do you make these stop?” He grabs the wider, pulling it from the teeth…

“Harvey, stop!”

Everything turned dead quiet. A vaper sprays from the teeth, it only took several coughs from everyone, for them to be clawing at their throats before they are on the floor knocked out cold.

Jerome, it had to be.

You needed to escape, get away, somewhere he could never find you again. You try to progress, but you can hardly breathe little alone move. Feeling faint and your head is swelling with a slow continuous thump.

Moving is too laborious, you need sleep, just a little rest…. You feel yourself sinking to the floor and everything - everything goes dark.

~

A pinch, it’s all you feel between the lines of darkness. Then something breaks through again making you feel warm to your core, your body is rocking slowly. Fabric, you could feel it pressed to your cheek, scratchy yet smooth.

  
“You said it would work, so why isn’t working.” The voice hums in the background, a sweet, sweet voice that easies your woes, with just its rhythm alone.

“Don’t give me that ‘time’ crap. Just figure it out already and put an end to the side effects - fuck.”

It’s hard to move, although you still manage to turn over, it feels as if your shoulder is getting cramped. Eyes flutter open gently, everything around you feels disjointed but better than before. It’s easier to breathe and you don’t feel as weak, just tired, very tired.

“Jerome?” You see him as you gently sit upwards, he’s beside you. You’re in the back seat of a car, being pulled towards his chest. “How’s it hanging, babydoll? You’re lookin’ a little under the weather.” He chuckles, holding the back of your head. Everything feels wrong, but also senseless, in a peculiar way that you can not place, it’s as if all your doubts are meaningless.

“What - happened?”

 

“Well for starters, we had a party planned but all the guests fell asleep, I guess you could say it was a dud.”

You remembered the box, the ribbon, Jim Gordon and the chattering teeth - a toy, not a bomb… A gas grenade inside or something else...some kind of other gas…

“Where are we going?” You whimpered into his chest, Jerome’s tight grip didn’t let lesson as time continued.

“I think I recall saying good girls get a reward, didn’t I? Aren’t you curious, toots? - Don’t you want a prize…”

Were you good? That means he was happy, happy with you. “Yes.” You respond almost robotically in your current state. What did he mean by reward? You didn’t even know what you did right.

“Stop the car.”

“- Here?”

“Duh. -”

Who was driving?

You couldn’t see, little alone turn your head. The engine stops and you are slowly helped from the car.

Hand in hand with Jerome as he draws you along, fingers laced together. He skipped onward with each step, you followed his feet as he moved.

“Jerome…”

“C’mon - it’ll be fun, I promise!” His voice urges you along.

Where is he leading you?

Raising your head you look around. You were walking down a street; it was almost dark. The street lights were just lighting up as you strolled along the sidewalk. Stores were closing and there was hardly anyone around.

“In here, c’mon now slowpoke.” A heavy tug pulls you closer as he opens a swinging door that rings a bell on entering the store.

It smells funny in here, almost like antiseptic and bleach.

Pictures drape the walls, more accurately drawings, sketches even - all over the place. The floor has black-and-white tiles; you glanced down at them as Jerome dropped your hand and moved to the counter, ringing the tiny belt on the desk, twice.

A beaded curtain out the back ripples and someone walks through, a woman covered in tattoos, and a funky cropped haircut, dyed bright blue.

“We don’t serve your kind here.”

“Ouch - you wound me.” Sarcasm ring high in his tone. “You don’t have to be a bitch, I am paying and technically you’ll be serving my gal here - and she’s definitely a keeper, so better not fuck shit up.”

“What -” You groan back to Jerome, watching him reach into his coat and pass money to the blue-haired lady.  
“Oh dear, not again…” He sighs, pulling you back into his arms. “Don’t worry, we’re just trial-and-error rage at the moment. Meaning things can only get better - Er...hopefully.”

What was he talking about?

“Right,” You hear the lady speak, “So what do you want - for your ’friend’ here?”

Jerome mumbles, slipping a piece of paper onto the desk towards the woman. “Can ya do it?”

She sways her head with an eye roll, wandering into the middle of the store. “Let’s find out.”


	5. It’s Only Skin Deep

  
  
  


  
The buzzing still rang in your ears, the pain, the needle - ink - his laughter, her hair. Everything felt nothing more than a dream, one that left its mark forever, etched upon your skin or more specifically your upper left breast. A heart with an arrow straight through the middle and ‘Mister J’ center focused, in curved font.

But it was only skin, and it didn’t hurt anymore.

~

“How are you feeling?” Jonathan clicked his pen, stepping around you. You had only met him this morning after waking up alone. He was the only one premises, Jerome was nowhere to be found. It was now only you and him in this big empty house.

Crane was younger than you expected, about your own age. Shoulder-length brown curls, pretty eyes, there was nothing scary about him at all to your own amusement.

“Better than yesterday.”

“Are you still feeling drowsy?”

“No, not yet.”

You watched Crane scribble down on a notepad, pen to paper, he ripped it from the book and tacked it a large corkboard in the kitchen, amongst a list of other notes. You wondered what he was preparing, the whole kitchen had been transformed into a lab of some kind.

“What are you making?” You see no harm in asking.

“At the moment.” He turns to you with a smirk, clutching an empty flask in hand. “Trying to get your treatment right. The first application only lasted six hours - it was stable but not proficient enough. The second was too high in toxin - your body couldn’t handle it. We are now onto the third trail, hopefully, it works without anymore annoying little side effects.”

It wasn’t much of a secret, having a syringe shoved into your arm this morning made everything clear - literally. It made you feel odd, but not in a bad way. You didn’t struggle or try to escape; you let him, for reasons even unexplained to yourself. You simply liked the feeling, the clarity of it all; the way you felt yesterday before everything had gone to hell. For once your mind felt at ease, unlike two sides at war with each other; it was tranquil.

“How long will this dose last?”

You were unsure if he even knew, or what they wanted. All you felt for sure was that he was monitoring you like a guinea pig. Noting what you felt, asking you question after questions, taking your temperature.

The old you would have found it terrifying, but now, in your current state, everything felt numb - no panic, no hesitation, no irritation - just relaxed, like nothing mattered at all - you weren’t even sure if that was a good thing, or what they wanted. Everything seemed outrageously tiresome.

“I am not sure. I am hoping for at least twelve hours and nothing more, any longer and it may become permanent.”

You thought Jerome would want it permanent, for you to always be like this - to make him happy.

“Why can’t it be permanent?” You take a seat at the table after asking, watching Jonathan tinker away, with numerous pots, flames, and many eerie tubes. It was obvious he was working on more than just your treatment, he looked flustered and overworked.

“Because…” He breathed out loudly, exhausted. “Too much of anything good is bad, and regrettably the side effects are even more severe from my less concentrated version. Jerome wants you to be compliant, not out of control.”

“Complaint is another word for boring.” You complain to him, staring down at your fresh work of art etched onto your chest, at least that was interesting - sitting at this table doing nothing wasn’t.

“You’re feeling symptoms of bored-ness?”

You groan helplessly as he begins writing it down forthwith. “Seriously?”

“Subject is showing signs of doubt.” He adds out loud.

“Oh I get it, you’re being cheeky.” You raise a brow, watching a grin peer through a large glass tube. He laughs in response, prompting you to wonder how many people had hidden sides of their personalities they rarely showed. You had one, that one iniquitous side that chewed away at your insides, one that filled your mind with doubts and false illusions; now just as senseless as the other side.

But if Crane had another side, maybe Jerome did too - maybe more people did then you initially conceived.

  
“Subject is also showing signs of malnutrition.” You muttered back, reaching for an apple in the table's center and taking a bite. You weren’t sure if you were a captive in this house, there were no bars on the windows, no chains around your hands or ankles, you were as free as anyone else.

In truth, Crane seemed more of a prisoner than you, the way he was working and the stress that showed on his face. “I think you need to try some of your own medicine, Doc. You look like you need to - relax.”

“I am not a doctor and I don’t need to ‘relax.’ I am perfectly fine.” The face he made when he said that said otherwise. He looked unquestionably flustered, cute, but also flustered... No surprise he wore the hood.

“No offense, but you’re not very frightening. I mean -” You pause, rephrasing your words. “From what I heard...”

Rumors maybe they were, just stories written in the newspaper you had seen. He was the son of a crazy biology teacher, Dr. Gerald Crane who tried to cure fear, by killing people with their own phobias, if you remembered correctly. However, you were unsure what happened to him after his father’s death, somehow he was taken to Arkham…

“He fuels the fear, I just spread it.” It was all he said, his voice low as it hummed making your nerves tingle slightly, but it fades away as soon as it starts, only leaving an amount of curiosity. “Sounds interesting, can I try it?”

Crane stops everything he is doing and looks you straight in the eyes.

“You want to be my first willing subject? How dreadfully amusing.”

His cheeky grin once again sparked your interest, and it did sound rather awfully entertaining. “I dunno, will I wake up with your name tattooed on my ass?”

He blinks at you for a moment.

“Would you like to find out?”

It wasn’t much of an option now; it was plan intrigue. You wanted to see what everyone was talking about. You could take, what was a little fear gas anyway…

“Hit me up, Doctor C!”

~

You weren’t sure what you expected. Would it be the stuff of nightmares, a hallucination, would you see the devil through his eyes? - may be a little of both. Breathing it in made you wince back in your seat, Crane’s smirk transformed from boyish to a foul monster before your sights. It was wrong until you witnessed everything around you changes, shapes, molds into oblivion.

Your skin stung like it was being pricked with a needle, buzzing chimed your ears, “Hold still.” your head rolled away, something was being shoved into your mouth against your will. You were being held down, arms tied, feet bound, confined. There was no way out, he was furious, enraged.

“You hurt my feelings, Sweets.” Jerome’s voice echoed in your head, repeatedly, once a smile now only a scowl scrutinized down upon you. His eyes of glass, bright and scarlet gazed upon you with nothing but disappointment omitted within. “please - I didn’t mean too, J.” You try to muffle back, but the message gets forgotten somewhere along the way.

“What’s that?” His face breaks as he walks around you. “You are so naïve, toots - So...innocent. To think I ever saw something in you that was otherwise.” He sways his head. You feel crushed, he was the only person that ever believed in you, and now he was turning his back, walking away… He didn’t even care, not one bit.

“I can change for you - I would.” You try to plead back to him. He turns pulling the gag from your mouth, replacing it with his thumb. It drags across your lips, hindering at your chin. “Babydoll you can’t be something you're not. You begging, just confirms it.”

“I was never enough was I?” A tear swells from your eye and you hate yourself for it, letting him see your vulnerability. It was pitiful, of course, he didn’t want you, why would he - you never made him happy…

His finger catches your tear, his face is blank as he dries it away, he looks appalled - it’s how you feel on the inside.

“Never.” He responds, who knew your heart could shatter in one word.

  
You felt lifeless, you couldn’t even do one thing right, not one damn thing…

“Then kill me and show it… fucking do it!” The bindings strain on your wrists as you launch forward, fierce and full of spite - heartbreak… “Do it, Mister J.”

Jerome stares at you, intrigued and breathing loudly. “You don’t think I would, doll?”

You try to get anger him, to get something out of him that isn’t a meaningless stare. “No, I think you’re fucking afraid.”

His face turns to wrath before your eyes. “You’re lying, trying to put fucking thoughts in my head - it’s screwing with me.” His fists grab his forehead, he looks in pain, struggling as he breaks free of his mental chains, pulling a revolver out of his coat. “Say it again, repeat it!” He shouts gun steady in hand.

“You’re scared.” You whisper. The world around you changes with the words, you are no longer strapped down, pinned or bound, you’re now at his feet on your knees, barrel pointed to your brow, the bite of steel bitter and hard. “You’re scared - scared because, for the first time, someone cares for you… that someone wants you…”

His finger trembles on the trigger, you watch him shudder with each word.

It feels like the end, shutting your eyes, you know it’s the end - the end of everything.

Yet he paces back, the sound of something ricocheting off the floor makes you open your eyes, bullets - one at a time, one, two, three, four, five…

One left.

The barrel spins, each click sends a shock like a tremor down your spine.

“Go on.” Jerome urges, his voice is distant and cold.

“ - That someone could actually... love you.” You pause, trembling on your own words. “So go ahead, shoot me - I am not the one losing something.”

“Is that so?” You’re uprooted off the ground and shoved against a wall with a massive force; holding his thumb to your neck driving deep enough to make you weep in distress.

  
“You have everything to lose.”

“You’re wrong, Mister J. Everything I love is gone - You’re lucky you’ll never understand what that’s like.” You lean your head back after the words, the cold barrel rests under your chin. But you’re at peace, calm, even know it hurts, you feel comforted that it is him that’s holding the gun. Somehow it’s easier knowing everything is in his hands, you were his after all; whether or not he believed so…

“Go on, kill me - you don’t need me - I am nothing to you, Jerome - just go on, just fucking do it already.”

You breathe in hard, your lungs rattling with the air. He didn’t care for you, he never did - you were just an item, a doll, a plaything - it was all obvious, though you didn’t care in the slightest. Because what you felt was genuine, no matter want was coursing through your veins, you knew what you felt was real...solid...And he could never handle it, it was the hard truth. Even the notion of a weakness terrified him, and he was positively frightened. Not of monsters nor man, but petrified of his own inner reflections.

His thumb drops from your throat as you open your eyes, you want to see him one last time before everything ends. You know you failed, but…

“I know - I know…” You spoke half crying your words. “I never made you happy, but you made me happy Mister J - for what’s it worth.”

“You made me happy, toots.”

Oh.

“...And you’re not nothing to me.”

Before you can swallow the air stuck in your lungs, a wet kiss lands on your lips. Salty from tears, cold and nothing like you remember. It feels real like he’s not hiding anything anymore. It’s passionate, loving almost from the way he holds you gently without force.

He lets go, slowly parting away, revolver still in hand, one bullet in the chamber.  
“You have everything to lose, toots.”

The chamber spins and the gun turns, upwards away from you.

He looks you in the eyes.

Smiling.  
..

  
After that, you're not sure what’s louder, your screams or the sound piercing your ears.

You fall to your knees, screaming, tears pouring down your cheeks till you’re soaking wet and huddled into a little ball….

It’s so cold…

So....wet….

Your body jerks suddenly, like you’re being thrown back.

Water is pouring over your face, drenching your body, hair and all.

Two eyes staring down at you.

You’re in the shower, on your knees, fully clothed.

“So - was it scary enough for you?”

  
  



	6. The Jester of Genocide

 

“What a rush.”

You cough up water, spitting it down over your chin. That was disgusting, horrific - the blood… It all felt so vivid. Your fingers were shaking and not because it was cold, but it felt as if your nerves were on set alight.

The water stops, hearing boots crunch over the wooden floorboards in the background. “Get dressed.” It’s all Crane had to say before slamming the door on you, making you feel utterly alone. You could still taste it, the gas and blood, the pressure of his hand around your neck, making you want to gag into the sink. It was hard not too, especially after seeing your reflection in the mirror, a ghostly shell peering back, shaken white with deep circles around your already red puffy eyes.

Jerome’s ‘J’ etched deep into your skin took your attention, making you peel back your wet shirt. It was permanent, forever lasting, it would be there till you died, till he died, even after… Your ears were still ringing with the blast, it was too real, far too real.

Your legs stumbled through the door, tripping over your feet, landing back into the room you had originally woken up into this morning.

You needed to breathe more than anything, pace yourself.

But when would Jerome be home? Where was he…

You didn’t know, and maybe you didn’t want to find out, it was obviously important; whatever he was planning... As long as it would not involve you getting locked up again, anything but that.

Slowly you made sure to removed your soaking wet clothes, grabbing a shirt from a large chest of draws. You weren’t sure who it belonged to; it was large and fitted like a dress. But whoever once claimed it, it was now yours by default; considering no one around here decided it was a good idea to get you over two sets of clothes.

At least you had gained something out of this whole situation, Doctor Crane’s magic hallucination gas sucked. Though the second time at least had to be better, how much of the stuff would it take to become accustomed? You shook your head, shaking off the idea - making you ponder what kind of gas Jerome had used on Gordon. It definitely wasn’t fear toxin and somehow he didn’t want them dead.

And how on earth did he achieve to get it inside a toy? However he managed it, you were glad he was a menacing, conniving bastard. Few people could jailbreak you in the heart of the GCPD.

Only, you wished right now you had some of your own things. It was boring here alone; you missed your stuff, your own clothes, and like hell you would go back downstairs anytime soon. The thought of being alone with Crane right now sent shivers back down your spine.

So you dragged yourself into bed.

Your eyes stopping on the bedside table, the studded red collar with the crystal ‘J.’

It didn’t take long for your hands to seize it, holding it close. You almost felt like crying - again, however pathetic it was, at least no one would see you. Maybe it was another side effect, you could almost strangle Crane if it was.

Pulling your wet hair up, you clipped it back on from behind your neck.

You instantly feel better, still sad - but less lost.

You should have known better than to trust a pretty boy.

They’re all evil.

Sinister.

Wicked.

Jerome was once pretty too, very pretty in fact, before all the scars. He had exquisite skin, porcelain white, flawless like a doll, and large eyes like seafoam- he still had those, plus the fiery red locks to match his attitude.

But now.

He was no longer that pretty teenage boy with an intoxicating laugh. Jerome was a man, easily just over twenty, if you counted the years he was technically dead. And now every mark and scar... Well, just made him even more attractive. You knew you probably shouldn’t think that, it’s very likely just the Doctor C’s narcotics in your system, but it was valid enough.

You were almost sure you would still find him charming if you weren’t all juiced up on crazy meds. Jerome was perfect; conviving - yes. Innocent -no. Sweet - depends on who’s asking . Sexy? Definitely.   Tall - very. Bad - extremely.

You never liked good boys anyway, they were boring. You couldn’t believe you were once like them, that you let that side of you take control most of the time, you hated being shy. Being alone was great, but people always took you for granted and used you for your kindness. Jerome would make sure that never happened again, he would set you free. Make sure you never have to be that person again.

You couldn’t hate him for that. He had only ever been kind to you, a little rough at times, but he never actually hurt you. Except for the hallucination, but that wasn’t real, it could never be real - you would never let that happen.

You didn’t love him, and he definitely didn’t love you…

You breathed out, hopelessly.

Fuck your emotions.

Fuck Crane.

Fuck everything.

You threw the blanket over yourself.

 

~

 

It was just over an hour; it seemed like that - maybe longer, somewhere along the way you could have fallen asleep. You couldn’t tell if it was night time or the day with the boarded windows, but if you had to guess, you would say it was well past dusk.

The click from the doorknob stirred you awake, along with footsteps and a low-pitched voice that grew louder with every second.

 

 **“** — I don’t want to set the world on fire…

...I just want to start a flame in your heart —  **”**

 

Was that Jerome? Singing, of all things?

You turned, listening closely to every pitch to his voice.

 

 **“**...In my heart I have but one desire — **”**

 

The weight in the bed shifts, with a heavy plop.

 

 **“** — And that one is  **you** …

...No other will do — **”**

  
Two hands grab you tight, pulling you into a warm embrace from behind.

 

 **“** — I’ve lost all ambition for worldly acclaim...   
...I just want to be the one you love —  **”**

  
His voice softness, pressed against your ear. You feel his hot breath as he purrs the rest of the words, with arms sliding around your waist.

 

 **“**  — And with your admission that you feel the same...

….I’ll have reached the goal I’m dreaming of...   
  
— Believe me —   
  
I don’t want to set the world on fire….   
….I just want to start a flame in your heart   —  **”**

 

“I missed ya’, toots.”  Jerome kisses the back of your neck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire - The Ink Spots ] Was the song Jerome sung. If you haven't heard it before - I recommend. it's the most Joker-y song ever.  
> Unless someone wants to proves me wrong - I am determined it is. XD


	7. My Monster & Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after hitting my head really hard. I blame that.
> 
> Warning for - fluff - crack and bonding. ;D

 

 

 

 

 

 “Where have you been?”

It’s almost a whisper when you ask it, soft and subtle. You knew you’re would only get a half a truth or less. You probably shouldn’t pry, it’s not your business after all - yet you still ask, even though you already know it will let you down.

 

_“- Around…”_

 

Just that.

 

What was that supposed to mean?

 

You shuffle around, facing him. His arms were still heavy around your waist. He was lovely and warm, considering all the shaking from earlier had left you freezing and wet.

 

Jerome flinched with your movements, you couldn’t remember the last time you saw him, everything was such a haze, only bits, and pieces were left, and they were shattered and jumbled to the point you did not understand which memory went where (Another, thanks to Doctor C)

 

His face, the light caught features, what little there was from the slither in the door. He still sported the bruises from when you first met, plus a cut to his lower lip. From the facial marks alone you could guess how bad they would be on his chest, considering that’s where took most of the hits

 

“Around?” You repeat, pouting your lips back at him mimicking his look - at least this was a golden time to squeeze information out of him, literally… _just a little bit._

 

“Er... ouch.” Jerome groans, “Jeez, tootsie pop, do you gotta be so clingy?”  

 

You let go of the words while he chuckles in pain.

 

“Don’t call me tootsie pop, and I ain’t clingy - you are!” You muse back, noting that he was the one that brought you here and wrote his name on you, that was clingy.

 

“Yeah…  _yeah…_  I ain’t ashamed. I have abandonment issues.” He shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing. “But, tootsie pop I bet if I licked you enough I’d get to that sweet -- OW! - _fuck.”_

 

It was your turn to laugh now. You had the upper hand, at least for tonight…

 

“You’re lucky you have a cute laugh.” He frowned. “My  _sadistic_  little princess.”

 

 _“Little?”_  You groaned back. “How old are you?”

 

“Why. Tryin’ figure out if I am  _legal?”_ He chuckles again a little louder. “I’ll have you know necrophilia is a class A felony, how far are you willing to go, toots?”

 

“Enough to get that heart pumpin’ Mistah J.” You give him a side of cheek. He might have been dead once, but Jerome was definitely more alive than most.

 

“Oh look who’s comin’ outta their shell.” He mutters under his breath. “I don’t think you should be giving me the wrong idea tootsie. I ain’t the kinda man who likes to be ‘pulled’ around - unless…” He winks then giggles.

 

“Charming as always, J - but you never answered my questions.”

 

Jerome grumbles with a groan, leaning his head back. “Nineteen - no… twenty - Er...one...ish? Fuck toots, I ain’t good at maths.”

 

“You only have one birthday a year, it’s not that hard to remember Mister J.” You sway your head with a tease.

 

“For you maybe, lil ginger Jerome didn’t get any cake or candles to remind him.” He pouts again, with a big over an exaggerated frown.

 

“Awh, do you want me to get you some candles?”

 

“Nuh, I’d rather have you blow something else.”  He smiles wide. “Oh baby, make a _wish…”_

 

“I guess wishing you’d grow out of your horny teenage stage, is a little too much to ask for?” You scoff back at him.

 

“Damn straight.” He pinches your ass from behind. “I am like horny Peter Pan, forever young babes.”

 

That was a mental image you could have lived without.

 

But at least it made you laugh, and you really - really needed that.

 

“Now the other question…if you don’t mind.”

 

“I mind everything, toots - _it’s a secret._ I think it’s my turn to ask some questions.”

 

_“Like?”_

 

“Mhm… Why are you all wet and shaky? It wasn’t my doing. You’d be screamin’ my name otherwise.” He questions, shifting onto his side, an arm tucked under his head.

 

“Oh funny - ha..ha..” You swallow, with an eye roll. “Crane let me try out his funky fear gas.” There was no point in lying.

 

Jerome mumbles and pats your head. “Oh girly, the things you get up to when I am not around - If only I could have seen, we can only be a fear gas virgins once.” He giggles.

 

You wince your head back with that comment. “This is what you do for kicks?”

 

“Arkham is a boring place doll, they make naughty boys wear mittens - and I have worn my fair share of mittens. So yeah, it’s like watching a scary movie.”  

 

“And..” You pestered him for details, curiously. “What did you see?”

 

“Depends on the mood - But normally it always has something to do with the last few moments I was alive - before fuckface Galavan. I was dressed up, Barbs at my hip… Then there’s little Brucey. I have him tied up in the thingamajig where you saw the lady in half with.. And that’s where it gets weird…” Jerome pauses and blinks his eyes over and over again.

 

_“Go on…”_

 

He swallows. “He looks at me, in the box… and says, _“- draw me like one of your french girls. -”_

 

“Please - please tell me you’re joking, Mister J.”

 

“Do I look like I am laughing, toots? - I AIN’T. That’s the scary part.” Jerome shakes his head. “Now you gotta tell me what you saw!”

 

You hesitated for a moment, before just blurting it out. “I saw you paint the fucking walls with your brain.”

 

“Ew.” Jerome made a face. “At least I went out with a bang. You have a weird mind, baby. But I won’t hold it against you -  _yet…”_

 

“Like you can talk - you’re the one with more than double life sentence under your belt.” You snicker back, the ‘J’ around your jingles whenever you do, and you notice him watching it.

 

“Half of those cops have killed more than me though.” His thumb trails was the loose tag. “And yeah… those other people… collateral damage _, it happens._ Oh, and there was that bus full of cheerleaders… I blame teenage rebellion, boredom and being overly sexually frustrated -  _the usual shit._ Ah, memories…” His eyes roll back reminiscing. “Be aggressive, BE-E aggressive.” He chanted.

 

After you stopped giggling, you nuzzled your head into his chest - it was warm and you could feel his heart thumping away. “Stay home with me tomorrow?”

 

“I can’t, toots.” His arms wrap around you, keeping you close.

 

“Please?”

 

“No.”

 

 _“Pleeeeease?”_ You urge again, in a sad voice.

 

“Oh fuck,  _fine.”_

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is gonna be fluff again, enjoy it before everything gets angsty XD


	8. Down The Rabbit Hole

 

 

 

 

“Toots…” Jerome clicked his fingers in front of your face, startling you from your inner blankness. For some reason your daily dose of crazy juice, made you feel a stranger in the morning. Not in a bad way, you simply felt more spaced out than anything. It was almost as if you were in two places at once, or maybe half asleep and half awake; you couldn’t explain how it felt, maybe there were no words for it.

Jerome stepped back, shaking his head. A large box was dropped onto the bed in front of you, brown and covered thickly with duct tape. “So are you going to tell me why you wanted me to get people to go around to place to get this? - What the fuck is in it - it feels like bricks.”

His hand grasps the sides and shakes it twice. “Sounds like bricks too.”

“It’s not bricks.” You unfold your arms looking down at the box, you were going to need something sharp to get through all this tape “Do you have a knif-”

Before you could finish, Jerome had lifted his right foot onto the bed, moving his hand from his black and white shoe, up his sock, to a band tied around his leg. He tossed the knife in hand before giving you the handle.

You weren’t exactly surprised that he was armed.

But the way he smiled when your fingers curled around the leather was enough to make your heart do flips.

“Ah.” You chew your lip, trying hard not to blush. “Thanks, J.”

“You’re welcome, Tootsie.”

Fuck, you hated him calling you that - but the way he said it, let him get away with it.

You flicked the knife open; the blade was a deep purple steel with a smooth edge; it was beautiful - and very sharp. With one quick slash, it opened with ease. Jerome kneeled down as you opened it, two hands supporting his chin. “Soooo - don’t leave me hangin’ here.”

You hand the knife back and pulled the lid off as he peeked in curiously.

“Oh, so I was right, after all.” He chuckled, pushing the knife across the bed without care.

“Books aren’t bricks, Jerome.” You raise a brow.

“I could still bludgeon someone to death with one, especially that one.” He pointed to the thickest.

“Not with my books, you’re not.”

Jerome groaned his usual mutter like a child who had his favorite toy taken away. He was so dramatic about everything he did. A real drama queen. He landed on the bed, falling on his back, arms spread like an eagle.

He smiles up at you when his eyes open, they’re almost green like the ocean - he gets more stunning everyday you spend with him, perfect, scars and all.  

You want nothing more than to reach down and kiss him, but something stops you.

The last time he had properly kissed you was in your hallucination - before then it was way back before the police station. And truth be told, you didn’t know if you were allowed too.

He wanted to be in control.

You must be compliant. You were his - everything was up to him.

Your palms were getting all clammy thinking about it.

“Babydoll -” Jerome cooed, before making a loud pop with his lips. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

“Nothing -” You stumble over your own words. “You just look - very nice today - I mean...you always do, it’s just…” He places a finger to your lips, shushing you instantly.

“Are we being flirty...mh?” The way he says it makes your stomach twist, eyes dark and full of hunger, he rolls to his side grabbing both of your legs at the knees. Pulling you towards him as he moves onto his knees, dragging your weight under his larger frame.

“Go on, keep sweet talkin’ - butter me up.” He chuckles in your ear, feeling his hot breath brush the arch of your neck, making your shrug away like electricity in your firing your nerves.

“You’re very -” You chew your lip, watching his smirk grow wider with every word. “Handsome.”

“What?!” He gushed loud, holding a hand to his heart. “Oh, shucks!” Even under that scar tissue, and pasty white skin you can see his rosy cheeks slowly growing fuller.

“And...oh fuck you smell amazing.” You couldn’t help yourself, he was so close and he truly did. It was the most arousing thing you had ever smelt.

“Oh, go on…” He muses with a giggle, grabbing the buttons of a long dress shirt you were wearing as a dress.

“It’s like -” sucking your lip, you think. “Gunpowder.”

Jerome mumbles, tilting his head and pops a button.

“...Cigarettes.” You tsk your tongue.

“Sorry.” He giggles, another button pops.

“And, rum.” You say lastly.

“You like that, toots. Huh?”

You did, strange enough. On anyone else, you would have hated it, but on him - it was absolutely intoxicating. Alluring, erotic. You couldn’t get enough, and you were under him right now. You just wanted to touch him, more specifically - grab those fucking suspenders.

Why did he have to wear those of all things? It was like he was begging for it.

You breathe out, trying to stay under control. “It smells like chaos and mayhem, I fucking love it.”

His chuckle grew into a full-blown laugh, and with that, his grip grows hard. The remaining button burst off, flying across the room. You wince back, feeling bare to his eyes, vulnerable even - but safe, you knew you were safe with him.

“What’s wrong, mhm - you shy, toots? You’re a shy girl aren’t you…” That was more of a statement than a question, but his eyes grew wider with want. “Wanna know something, babes? Something I have told no one…” His voice was almost a purr when he speaks, it sends a hard shock wave down your spine, making you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“You can tell me anything, Mister J.” You whisper.

He smiles cordially in response. “I - have a fetish for pretty shy girls.”

You couldn’t help but blush, he was making a mess out of you. “I thought you preferred the wild kind.”

“That’s where you’re wrong beautiful. I rather make em’.”

Maybe that’s what he was doing to you, why he was molding you, crafting your will to fit his own. But whatever his desire, you cared little for the end result - you liked being here with him, seeing him made you happy, happier than you ever felt before. Every time he came home to you, he looked at you like it was the best part of his day.

You had nothing like that before, it couldn’t be an illusion. It couldn’t be all of the Doctor C’s drugs. Some part of it had to be real, and if it wasn’t, you never wanted to go back to that old life. You were better off here with him with nothing but him, then being utterly alone.

Jerome made you feel like someone.

And if that made you crazy, then so be it.

You swallow in your throat. It’s hard to be like this - you just want to be his, wholly. You want him to know it, to feel it - to be without doubt.

But it was hard to say it. Even more to speak the words, how far was too far…

“ Jerome - Mister J…” Your eyes part from his, chewing your lip with nerves. You weren’t scared of him, the only fear you felt was of a totally different sort.

Though the way he laid over you, supported himself so softly around you, it made you feel safe. While you were his, he would let nothing happen to you.

“What’s up, babes? You can tell me anything…” He used your own words back at you, making your flutter your eyes with a wide smile. You couldn’t help yourself, you needed to touch him, just with your hands.

Your palms move up slowly, hooking gently around his neck. He flinches at first, but then smiles, letting you know it’s okay.

It makes you feel at ease.

“We talked about...a lot of stuff last night - and…” You mumble over your own words, while he shakes his eyes at you. “C’mon tootsie, just say it. Stop beatin’ me around.” His head drops, pressing his lips against your skin, the tattoo that hovered just above your bra - exposed and vulnerable to his actions.

You can feel your heart racing, he probably could too in his position.

 

“Um…”

 

“C’mon...say it.” He kissed again before raising his head to look you in the eyes.

“Do you want?” You breathe out, the air feels stagnant in your lungs. “Do you want to make love to me?”

That was harder to say than you expected.

“...What.” His smile turned blank and his mouth dropped from a pouted smirk.

“Jerome, I am s--” Your words stop as his face falls between your breasts. “Oh my god.” He groans aloud. “Oh my god - oh, Satan...in hell…” He rolls his face to the side. “...Alice Cooper.”

 

Why did he have to be so dramatic?

“Jerome I…”

“Oh shut up, gorgeous.” He says with a heated grunt. “Fuck, you are the most innocent thing ever.” He pauses. “Make love? What the hell, toots!”

“Then...you don’t want too?” You did not understand.

“Yes - no...yes…” He groans again, tossing his head trying to decide. “No...yes… fuck. Fuck. I can’t violate your goodness! That...oh jeez. That was the sweetest thing I have ever heard… ‘Make love.’ oh, fuck me.”

He was just making fun of you now.

“Oh, come on tootsie pop, I don’t ‘make love’ fuck… why do you have to be so goddamn sweet? I fuck. I bang. I screw. Whatever, I don’t make love!”

Jerome moves away, sitting up onto his knees, pulling you up with him, chest to chest. “Listen gorgeous, let me be frank with you, a’ight?”

You nod your head, waiting for his words.

“So…” Jerome smacks his lips, breathing out in a huff. “Once you’re mine, you’ll always be mine. Always.” You don’t understand, you were already his…

 

“J..”

 

“Shut up, I ain’t finished.”

You pause and let him continue.

“I am a jealous man, doll. I don’t share and I don’t play well with others. Once we tango, you’re my partner forever. Got it?”

“I am already yours.” You urge.

“You are - but you can still leave, I’ll be upset… but you can…” He was offering you a way out, a door to leave. But you liked being with him, why would you want to go back to your old life, to be a shitty photographer again, when you could be so much more.

“I want to be yours, Jerome - I have already made my choice.”

“Well, I am giving you time to think about it. It’s a lifetime commitment toots. Which for me is like, one to five months tops, but whatever.” He shrugged. “Just think about it, okay?”

You didn’t need to think about it, you already had your answer but you nodded again to keep him happy.

“Alright, now slap me. C’mon, do it.” He urged out of nowhere, flicking his hands towards himself. “I am starting to feel warm and fuzzy, come on toots. Hit me… make me feel like a man again.”

 

“Mister J…”

 

“Toots… slap me.” He demanded.

Jerome grabs your wrist and places it draws it to his cheek, closing his left eye. “Right there, go on...you know you want to…”

But you didn’t want too.

“Close both your eyes, it’s going to sting. ” You mutter softly, watching him wrinkled his nose and close both his eyes. “Atta girl hit me.”

 

No.

 

“Watch out, here it comes Mister J.” You coo, before launching forward and pushing him with all your weight down onto his back. Kissing his face repeatedly. It had been so long, you were finally breaking free - this is what you wanted, him.

“Ugh!” He tossed with a groan. “Opposite to what I wanted! Opposite!!” Jerome yelped, helpless to your attack.

“Stop giggling - this - is -  **not** \- funny.” He grunted in between every kiss.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long update - ugh... this chapter was fun to write though.
> 
> Poor - poor POOR Jerome. 
> 
> _
> 
> Thanks again for all the lovely comments!! people are so nice...it's crazy... XD
> 
> Also I know this a little different from other stories. But hey. someone's gotta do it.


	9. She's Crazy

 

 

 

 

Waking up next to Jerome was the best part of your day, the worst part was after he had awakened and forced Crane to give you daily dose crazy meds. Before that, everything feels funny, dizzy and you just want to throw up. You still weren’t exactly sure what they were giving you. Except that you needed it now - you weren’t physically addicted, but your body would go through intense withdrawals as soon it had faded your bloodstream.

It was to the point now, that you didn't believe you fought it at all. You let them give it to you, at first you just wanted it because you were frightened, and sick of always being afraid, it seemed you had spent most of your life that way. It felt good to leave that behind for several hours and pretend it never existed. It’s how Jerome lived, he was never scared of anything - he was always so confident, so brave - and without this, you were just another jittering mess.

But lately, it had been making you feel ill. Maybe it was like Crane had said, too much of anything good is bad, and this was just the same. As much as you needed it, it had its costs and you were feeling the brink of them almost all the time now. It was to the point now you were having strange side effects, sometimes you would have terrible nightmares, other times you would wake in the middle of the night with tears pouring down your cheeks with Jerome staring at you oddly.

He knew there was something wrong - he had been acting strangely with Crane of late, speaking behind your back, when they thought you were upstairs. Sometimes you just heard mutters coming from the kitchen. It was hard to bare. You just wanted to know what was happening.

 

Or more specifically what they were doing.

 

Jerome was up to something, scheming away, plotting, That was for sure, he had the most unusual people come around at times, while you stayed upstairs. He didn’t like certain people seeing you, but other times he didn’t care at all. His only reason was that he didn’t trust them, maybe he thought they would hurt you.

You guess it made sense, he probably had a lot of enemies that would give almost anything to have a blackmailing piece against him, he was practically the King of Gotham at this point in time.

 

Even Cobblepot was wrapped around his little finger, like another nervous wreck. You were allowed to meet him the other day. Jerome had shown you off and everything, almost like he was proud of you.

 

You were just happy to see new people, considering you were starting to feel a little stir crazy from being kept inside for so long.

 

It was interesting listening to him talk. Everyone was so scared of him, you could see it in their eyes and the way their voices got shaky when he raised his tone. He never made you afraid though, you thought he was sweet.

 

Well, he was sweet to you, not so much to everyone else, especially poor Oswald. He seemed to be very quiet, but overall nice and polite. It seems like the two didn’t get off on the best ground back at Arkham Asylum. Nevertheless, that place didn’t seem like the best of places to make first acquaintances. Somehow though, just seeing Oswald up close first time, you could never imagine him in a black and white one-piece suit.

Saying he was a snappy dresser was an utter understatement, you already felt underdressed as it was walking around the house in one of Jerome’s shirts, little alone next to the former King of Gotham - although, if you had any say, he’d still be the King of style - maybe that will rub off on Jerome… well, you can hope perk comes with the title.

There was no doubt about it, that you should have been listening to them talk and not fantasize about Jerome in a handsome black velvet suit. But how could you resist, you were sitting there on his knee the whole entire time. The other parts, you found Cobblepot staring at your tattoo on your chest or the fitted ‘J’ collar around your neck, you found a lot of his visitors did. Jerome didn’t like you hiding it, he liked it being visible, to show everyone that came around that saw you, knew who you belonged to.

 

That you were his and only is.

 

Not that he needed to remind you.

 

You knew you belonged to him.

 

It was showing him, that you wanted to be his which was the hard part.

 

Jerome was still under some false illusion that you wanted to leave. That he should question your loyalty, even though he never did actually say it, you could feel that was what he was insinuating. But you were more loyal than any of his followers, more than Crane, more than that weird Tetch guy, and definitely more than Cobblepot.

 

It was almost annoying you - hell, it was annoying you. Why couldn’t Jerome see that? Why was he blind to your loyalty? You did everything he wanted, and you were fairly sure you made him happy, at least you could make him chuckle now - unlike that first, horrible, awkward meeting, thank goodness you weren’t that person anymore. You had changed so much for him, in such a short amount of time, but it was like he refused to see it like he denied what he saw.

 

You wanted him to see what you saw.

 

To know what you feel.

 

You breathe out, sitting on the stairs that winded up towards the second floor, you could hear Jerome right now talking to Crane in the kitchen. It was about 2 PM in the afternoon, he was home much earlier than usual, but still busy. He didn’t like you in the kitchen when he spoke to Crane, it was almost as if he was talking about you - that, or his ‘master plans’ which you weren’t even sure of, though it seemed like he didn’t let anyone in on it.

The more time went on, the more it made you wonder if even Crane was filled in on everything, and he lived here in the house, just the room next to Jerome’s and yours. They seemed close at times, then distant the next.

Despite all, the only thing Crane ever did was work, work, work. You almost felt sorry for him, well, you did. He hardly ever left the house. You wondered if that was because Jerome didn’t want you to be alone or solely because Jerome had him consistently doing his research. The time when Jerome was gone (Which was most of the time) you spent with Crane. In the kitchen, watching him tinker away, still making whatever Jerome wanted, the thing he never spoke about.

 

All you knew was it was some kind of gas, one that made the house smell funky.

 

That and he felt bad for making you feel sick. Not that it was his fault, you didn’t blame him, or Jerome. Jerome was just trying to help you, he didn’t want you to feel scared anymore, he wanted you to be like him.

 

But some part of you knew that you would never be able to live up to his standards.

 

Though, you wanted too deep down.

 

You wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong about you, that you were worthy.

 

That you _were…_

 

You took another long breath of air, not finishing the thought in your head. You shouldn’t think that way, the idea alone was dangerous. Forbidden. Unwanted. Unneeded. And truth be told you had no idea how Jerome would react to it the truth because if it was anything like your hallucination, you could live without it. But did that mean you now had to live with a lie, just because you were scared of what could happen?

_That’s what the old you would have done._

 

Just kept everything bottled up, left to brew till it became nothing but sorrow filled regret. Something that kept you up at night, and haunted your dreams.

 

You were in love with Jerome Valeska.

 

And nothing was more dangerous than love.

  


~

  


Sometimes at night, somewhere between curled up in his arms and laying there wide awake you thought about telling him - just being honest. If you let it out and just tell him, things could be easier, hell, they might even be better. But that doesn’t mean they could be worse. He doesn’t need that kind of pressure right now. He already has a lot on his plate, dealing with your stupid feelings would be the last thing that would help.

Jerome was right about you being naive, here you were supposed to be compliant and all you wanted to hear from him was some kind of commitment that wasn’t ‘I own you.’ Was it that much to ask for? You didn’t feel like it was asking much, for him to recognize you as something more than just his doll that slept next to him.

 

You wanted to be more.

 

You deserved to be more, and yet you had no idea what that even meant.

 

It wasn’t like you expected him to call you his _‘girlfriend.’_

 

_but…_

 

It’s not like you would say no if he asked…

 

You were wasting your time thinking about it. He wasn’t that kind of guy, and you shouldn’t be that kind of girl. You stood slowly, heaving yourself by the railing taking one step at a time towards the living room.

 

You could still hear Jerome talking to Crane.

Moving forward, you listened to see if it was anything important.

 

“I told you, I needed it to be done by now - we’re almost at the next step - if I hit Wayne Tower before it’s ready, then -”

 

The floorboards creak with your toes and you stop still. Busted.

 

Jerome looks at you from around the corner, pouting his lips, he folds his arms next to Crane.

 

“I am not feeling well, I can...  get a glass of water.” You mutter, sadly. Not wanting to tell him you were listening in, you had no idea what he was talking about anyway. Why would Jerome want anything to do with Wayne Tower, and what had to be ready before that? - Whatever it was, it had something do with Crane’s work.

 

“Then stop stalling and come ere’.” He lent out his hand for you to walk closer. Inch by inch you moved forward, till he grabbed you and propped you up on the kitchen bench, like you nothing but a doll.

 

A glass is filled with cold water from the tap and passed to you gently, as you grasp it in your clutches. “Curiosity killed the cat, toots.”

 

You had to have expected that, he always knew you when you were lying, it was as if he saw through you from day one like you were paper thin. “I am sorry, I didn't mean too.” You look down. “I am feeling sick though.”

 

His thumb trails your cheek slowly, he doesn’t look mad. “Is she supposed to be this pale?”

 

Crane shrugs. “I told you, I can’t control the cosmetic effect.”

 

“Is it going to get worse?”

 

Sometimes you hate it when they talk like you’re not in the room, but other times you just sit there and stay quiet.

 

Crane looks down at his notes, licking his thumb and turning pages fastly. “I can’t say - it’s not a concentrated as the other test subjects that were hit with a full dose. My thought is that it is more of a gradual effect, the more continuous of the application, the more the side effects will become less mental, and more physical.”

 

That didn’t sound great at all.

 

“And if we stop, want happens if she just goes cold turkey?” Jerome urged.

 

Crane shrugs his shoulders, he’s not completely sure, but he knows as much as you, it would be extremely painful to go back now. “The damage is done, there is no going back. Stopping the treatment now would just be torture.”

 

“So you’re telling me we can’t just pump her full of methadone? Fuck.”

 

Jerome continues to swear for what seems awhile, Crane just goes on, talking about chemistry you don’t understand and it all in one ear and out the other.

 

It ends with Jerome clenching his face in his hands. He looks tired, so does Crane. You feel tired as well.

 

“If you want, we can go have some fun to make you feel better?” You try to suggest, the idea of leaving the house meant it was slim...but, he looked as if he needed a break, Crane, too.

 

“Oh, toots.” Jerome kisses your forehead. “My idea of fun at the moment lies at the bottom of a bottle and several movies.”

 

“But - we could wreak some havoc.” You urge back, blushing from the wet kiss printed on your forehead.

 

“We could - we could babes,” Jerome mutters, grabbing an apple from a bowl of the bench next to you, beginning to cut into it. “Or we could watch all the Chucky movies, ya know, your second favorite psychotic, sarcastic, ginger.”

 

For a moment there, you look down at your tattoo and back at Jerome. Squinting your eyes, you stare at him while he is biting into a piece of fruit. “Seriously, Jerome?!”

 

“What?” He chews.

 

You tilt your chin with a clenched jaw. “The tattoo… mhm.” You mumble you’re not surprised, not even in the slightest.  

 

“It was a teenage crush, what of it.” He shrugs. “I like psychotic blondes.” A piece of the apple gets pressed towards your lips before you can react, forcing you to bite it.

 

“Eat, tootsie.”

 

You comply. As you chew Jerome smacks his lips together, watching you eat. “Atta girl, an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Ain’t that right doc?!”

 

Jerome turns to Crane with a smile.

 

“I am not a doctor.” Crane shakes his head, leaving the room.

 

“Spoilsport.” Jerome rolls his eyes back to you. “Eat or I’ll shove something else down your throat toots, and let's hope for your sake your gag reflexes up to scratch.”

 

You roll your eyes, taking another piece from his hand.

 

“I am serious gorgeous, I am blessed - I am like the Second Coming, pun intended.” Jerome chuckles pulling you down from the bench, before smacking your ass forward.

 

“C’mon, movies then havoc.” He promised.

 

 

 

How did you ever fall in love with him...

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kid you not, this does have a plot. 
> 
> It's very different. But, I think it should prove 'interesting'  
> And yeah, Jeremiah will definitely be coming in at some point. 
> 
> WE HAVE FUN CHAPTERS COMING UP.  
> SERIOUSLY.  
> It's legit bonkers.
> 
> Just wait annnnnnnd see. 
> 
> -  
> And you can't tell me Jerome wouldn't have a teenage crush on Tiff.  
> C'mon, be real... XD


	10. The Things You Do For Love

 

 

  


When Jerome kept his promise, you were more than surprised.

You were finally out of the house, and inside an in the front passenger seat of his car. You had no idea where he was taking you, it was most likely a surprise. Then there was Crane in the backseat, who seemed just as happy as you, to be finally out and about.

“Babydoll, I don’t want to alarm you. But, I never technically got my license.” Jerome looks you straight in the eyes when he says it, making you gulp in your throat.

Who knew the dangerous part of today would be getting from A to B.

Grabbing the steering wheel every few minutes was the last of your concerns, his sharp turns where the scary part, that and his constant outrageous speeding; Jerome was definitely not going to be driving home.

When the car stopped finally, a sense of relief finally wavered over you.

You survived.

And if you could survive Jerome’s driving, you could survive anything.

“Well, that was fun.” He mused with a chuckle, pocketing the keys into his coat.

You look out the window, unaware of where he had taken you. It was still Gotham, the inner part of the city, the street lined with stores and shops. Though the question remained which one he was taking you too first.  
  
You turn your head.

“What are we doing here?”

Jerome shuffles upon his seat, looking to you and Crane in the backseat.

“This isn’t the main event gorgeous, just a stop off. We need to get you a disguise.” He states with a wide grin upon his face.

It made sense to a degree, though Jerome never wore a disguise. Crane did, so that was good enough for you. But, that also meant that you would be doing something with him today that required a disguise. Which meant he had something horrifically fun in mind.

Jerome’s hand reached over to the glove box, opening it with a pinch of his fingers. A gun was inside a revolver and small box of ammunition that rattled when he seized it.

“Do you know how to use a gun?” He asks.

“The basics.” You shrug.

Something about the gun sent shivers down your spine, you weren’t opposed to having one. It was probably a good thing have some self-defense. It was the revolver itself that caused the feeling, it made you think back on fear gas again, and that awful nightmare.

Although, it wasn’t real. You had to let go, it was just a trick of your mind. This was real, sitting in the car next to him.

The way you felt about him now was authentic, not like them... it had to be.

You watched Jerome load the gun, one bullet after the other as he flicked barrel close. “There are only six bullets, so you only have six chances to kill something. If you have to use it, make em' count.”

Jerome presses the gun into your hand molding your fingers to the trigger. “Aim high. Two hands, not one - the recoil is a bitch, so don’t slugging it like a cowgirl.”

  
You nodded as while listening. When he was done talking, he lifted your shirt and hid it under your waistband.

The revolver dung into your hip as you left the car. Crane behind you, and Jerome by your side. Sure enough, you were outside a wacky costume store for cosplay and Halloween. If any place was going to have a store like this it would be Gotham.

Jerome held the door open with a smile, letting you enter first. The store looked rather empty, but small cozy and cluttered.

Crane locks the door and turns the open sign, to closed.

  
It’s still strange to you to see him all dressed up, rather than his usual home look, although, it does have a certain charm to it.

  
Jerome faces you with a grin. “I want you be paying attention, toots. Take note and most important, make incredibly irrational decisions!”

It only takes two seconds for you to realize what he’s doing, his hand pushes out with a launch, forcing a whole aisle of selfed of goods to topple down and cause a domino effect within the store. Jerome was like an over six-foot unstoppable mischievous child, that never took no for an answer.

“This is the part where someone gets mad.” He mutters under his breath.

Well, obviously. You shake your head with a giggle.

  
He grabs your hand with his left, while he starts skipping along with you, seizing some yellow caution tape off a shelf while you wander down the isles. Jerome looks to you, a finger to his lips, pointing ahead, his hand from yours drops.

  
“Hey, what do think you’re - doing...” The elderly man at the front looks at Jerome with a glance and stops talking, he stalls moving back before he's frozen where he stands.

Two thumbs hook his suspenders, as Jerome begins to move with a cocky strut.

Because everything he did, had to be dramatic and without cause.

  
“Hello, my good Sir!” Jerome beams loud and clear. “If there are to be introductions -”

  
“I know who you are!” The shopkeeper yelled back, shaking like a leaf.

  
Jerome didn’t like that.

  
He doesn’t like being interrupted.

  
It doesn’t take long till a chair is pulled out, forcing the man to sit, all while being bound tightly with the yellow caution tape, over and over, wrapped like a gift. His mouth free, but hands tied behind his back, Jerome muttered 'singing in the rain' the whole time.

  
His hands slam down on the man’s shoulders with a clap. “I suppose I have one of those unforgettable faces, mh?” Jerome cocks his head as he talks, changing ears with every two or three words. “But would you like to meet my friends? That there is Jonathan Crane, but he likes to go by his more colorful monica these days. You may know him as ‘Scarecrow.’ “

  
“Don’t forget me, pumpkin!” You call with a wave.

“Oh, that’s tootsie, she’s a little green.” He pauses. “That’s why she forgets her manners!”

Jerome gives you a stern look. “Anyway. We’re here to dress her up. I am looking for something that says, ‘I’m a crazy bitch’ but also, ‘I am fucking cute, and extremely unavailable.’ Got anything like that here?”

  
The man mumbles and shakes his head.

  
“Whelp, I guess we’ll just look around then.” Jerome tapes his mouth. “Have fun Crane - go nuts.”

 

  
~

 

“Okay, okay. I got it.”

  
You had been wandering around the store for the last two minutes with Jerome at your hip. You were starting to believe that he would never make up his mind, and the only things he did choose were absolutely ridiculous.

“Queen Kong!” He held up a large, fully furred gorilla suit.  
  
“No.” You reply, crossing your arms. “No fur.”

  
“Awh.” Jerome pouts sadly. “C’mon, I’ll even let you ride my skyscraper.”

  
When his brow cocks, it makes you giggle but you still refuse to wear such a thing. “No.”

  
“No fun!” Jerome threw the suit down. “I was only kidding anyway - only the first part though.” He winked, grabbing something else from the wall.

  
“Little Red Riding Hood!”

  
Jerome gasped and started talking in a high pitch girlish voice, almost if he was trying to sound like you.

  
“What a large tongue you have, Mister J.”

  
He lowers his tone.

  
“All the better to eat you with my dear.” Jerome flutters his tongue.

  
You knew then that he never did truly grow up, not that you minded in the slightest.

 

“I think we should put that in the later pile.” You giggle back.

 

“Mhm, yeah...yeah, plus we all know she likes to take it like a dog.” He muttered with his mind elsewhere. “Uhm...OH!” His face lightens. “Put this on, go on!”

 

Jerome tosses you a white and blue dress with a tiny hat.

Before you knew it, your shirt was being pulled over your head and to the ground. “C’mon, hurry up.”

 

“Give me a second, sheesh.” You scoff, trying to slip it over your hips. “Zip me up.” You turn as his fingers do the work. You were standing there dressed as a little sailor girl, dress, and hat.

 

“Ahoy!” You say with a tune to your voice. “Wanna rock my boat? Make me take your plank? Why don’t you drop your anchor, so I can come aboard.”

 

You couldn’t stop yourself, he’d been asking for it.

 

“Oh, good lord.” A hand claps his lips. “Naughty, naughty girl!”

  
With a quick heave, you were being spun around in his arms, legs locked tight around his waist and hands hooked around his neck. Why did he have to be so easy to love? why did he have to make you feel this way? You could almost resent him for it. You almost wanted him to hurt you, so you had a reason to want to leave, to hate him. But you couldn’t - you can’t - everything he does makes you love him more.

 

Which makes everything so much harder.

 

“Jerome.”

 

“Shut up, toots.” Your thoughts turn to dust in your head, heart to ashes. Locked eternity in a kiss not even the fires of Mordor could quench. You were lost far away, out of reach of your own body, your own mind. You were just with him, body to body. In love, in pain, and more than anything... yourself.

  
His head pulls back slowly, sucking his lip. The hand that holds your hip wonders to the wall, where he’s fiddling with something - a tail, a black one, that just so happens to be connected to a skin-tight black catsuit.

His eyes turn back to you, tail in hand, as he flicks it with a twist.

“She’s not the pussy Gotham deserves, she’s the pussy we need.”

 

You blink.

 

Twice.

 

“I don’t think so, Mister J.” You tilt your head.

 

Jerome pouts his lips into a frown. “Damn.”

 

Then his eyes widened, unlike you have ever seen. He sees something, something you know he wants badly - that Jerome has finally made up his mind.

 

He drops you to your feet before you can turn, he has something in his hands, placed against his body.

 

Pom Poms.

 

Bells.

 

Skin tight.

 

Fan-fucking-tastic.

 

“Tootsie, strip.” It’s all he had to say, there was no rebuttal, no second argument, Jerome wanted this, and Jerome always got exactly what he wants. “The sea has called you elsewhere sailor girl.” He giggled, passing you the suit.

 

It was a tight squeeze, like pulling on a pair of pantyhose over your entire body, and there was a hat as well, with more white pom poms.

 

Somehow you managed to get it on.

 

And with that, Jerome’s smile when he saw you fully dressed was the most terrifying then you had ever seen.

 

“How does it feel, beautiful?” He gasped, two hands on each side of his jaw.

 

That was a question of itself, how should a girl feel when she’s dressed head to toe in a full body, red and black jesters suit.

 

“I am wearing so much latex right now, I feel like a human condom.” You groan with a huff.

 

“It’s perfect!”

 

Well, that’s one word for it.

 

The things you did for love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Double Date Night

 

 

You almost felt bad about neglecting the man tied up in the store, but with this much latex sticking in your ass right now as now, it felt like you were literally being fucked. So you shrugged it off as easy as Jerome did.

Without further delay you hopped in the back seat of the car, dragging Jerome on top.

You wanted him there, fastened over you, not because you fancied him as far away from the steering wheel as possible, but because you simply craved him.

Jerome called out directions to an unknown place, while Crane started the engine with a roar. Your legs coiled and wrapped around his waist, holding yourself in place, while his hand once against rubbed on the outer layer of your suit, forced from any form of skin on skin contact.

 

You could still feel all his attempts, his thumbs, his fingers, pressing and kneading against the fabric, causing nothing but giggles to exit your lips. “Jerome, that tickles!”

  
He groans with the comment, it’s not supposed to tickle, but it does and you can’t help yourself but chuckle. Jerome mutters something under his breath before uprooting you with a tug, forcing you onto his lap with a jolt. “Fuck you, for laughing at my suffering.” You feel a biting sting before the loud clap sound on your ass. He just spanked you, “Ouch, be gentle with me, pumpkin!”

“No calling me ‘pumpkin.” He spanked you again, harder. Sending a jolt through your body, making your hips bolt forward. “Okay, pumpkin.” You muse back with a tease, asking for it - wanting it, forcing a literal rise out of him.

 

“Oh, do you think you’re being cute now?!”

“I am always cute.” You muse back.

“Be that as it may, that can’t always get you outta trouble, doll.”

“I dunno pumpkin, I think it’s working right now.” You tilt your head, the bells on your hat jiggle with your sway.

  
“Is that so?!” He spanks you again, this time hard enough for the sound to ring in your ears for a moment.

 

You mumble with the burn. “My pain is your pleasure….” You pause. “Pumpkin.”

Jerome raises a brow towards you, and you see something in him, you’ve never have before.

“I don’t think you wanna make me enraged, gorgeous.”

  
You falter, shuffling your hips upon his lap to his groove, moving forward and softly laying a kiss on the arch of his neck. “I am sorry.” You plant a kiss, moving up to his jawline. "Forgive me?” you land another soft smooch as he rolls his head back with a mutter. “I’ll behave Mister J, I promise.”

  
“You can’t kiss your way out of everything, either babydoll.”

You at suck your lips, “Depends what I kiss, pumpkin.” at last your lips greet his own like an old lover, passion-filled and driven wild by your one-sided love. Your fingers comb through the back of his fiery ginger hair, that you have grown to adore like everything else about him.

 

You loved him.

 

You really, really, did.

 

“Tootsie.”

 

Jerome pinches your ass. “The car as stopped.”

 

Which in other words you had to let go… You slid off, holding yourself back, if only you had moments instead of mere minutes - maybe then you could tell him how you feel, let loose and just let things flow.

 

But now, now wasn’t that time.

 

“Squeeze down and get me my double barrel, it’s under the driver's seat, gorgeous.”

 

You oblige, bending down and fishing under the seat, grabbing the first thing you feel. “I got...something.” You pull it out, it was a taser of all thing.

 

“Mind if I have this?” You ask.

 

“Sure, whatever. Just get me the gun, toots”

  
You grab it, it’s large and heavier than you expect, almost awkward to hold. When Jerome grabs it, he pulls the barrel down with a click, pushing the red pellets in before cocking it back up with a loud crack. “Everyone ready?”

  
What did that mean?

  
“Jerome…”

“You wanted chaos. This is chaos.” He points out the window, the car was parked outside a large bank, filled and packed with people. “A fucking bank?! Jerome, we don’t need money!” You quarreled back.

“Mh, but we aren’t doing this for money, babes. It’s for the sheer pleasure and adrenaline. Plus, it’s good to leave Jimbo trails here and there, keep the poor guy on his toes. And if you want to think about it, my bad behavior fuels his job, without anarchy poor Jimbo wouldn't be able to put food on the table.” Jerome smiles.

You turn your head and look back out the window.

You were going to rob a bank with Jerome.

Well.

At least it was a first for everything.

~

  
“Put your fucking hands in the air!” You yell, aiming your silver revolver high above your head. You had to make Jerome proud of you, and this was the best time to show him your loyalty if you could do this, maybe then he’d start seeing your worth, your devotion and start taking you seriously. You needed that, more than anything in this world.

“No funny business. Unlike my boy here, I don’t go shooting blanks!” You knocked your hip against him, giving Jerome a tease, but all he did was lower his gun and give you a look that said. ‘We’re going to talk about your behavior later.’

The bank itself was filled with at least twenty or so people, including workers and general civilians. You were hoping Jerome wasn’t going to shoot anyone, just do what he wanted, have his fun then leave, but you found that highly unlikely. “What now, Mister J?” You ask, watching everyone do as you asked, unaware of how this whole procedure was supposed to go.

  
“You know what you needa do, babydoll. Make me happy, entertain me... kill someone.” Jerome moves towards you, gun over his shoulder. You knew he would ask that he had been hinting at it from the very beginning, ‘all you need to do is kill someone and let go.’

Yet…

“Jerome…”

He sighs disappointed. “And I thought, I had such high hopes for you, doll.” Jerome pouts, chewing his inner cheek, slowly moving closer to the main counter cased in glass, where a bank teller stood with her hands pressed to her head.

  
“The sooner you learn people are just meat, blood and bone, the happier you’ll be! These people aren’t like us, tootsie. Their just mmh… vanilla, boring, meek, sheep that follow the shepherd - or are you just one of them?” His eyes turn to you, asking a question.

You feel your nervus spike in your blood, you didn’t think you were - you wanted to be like him, but if that meant killing someone… Your hands shivered with the thought, trembling, pulsing with something that almost felt like anxiety, yet masked in a murky haze.

“I can’t, I can’t kill someone.” You look down, lowing the gun. “I just -”

“Can’t?!” Jerome finished your sentence for you.

You gulp in your throat, watching his jaw clench and veins bulge thickly within his brow. He was mad, not like before, this was something else entirely, the real sort. No more games, no more laughs, and jests, this was Jerome the way everyone else saw him.

“I am s-sorry.” You try to plead, but you're caught in angry hands. “You’re sorry? What am I going to do with sorry?! I am giving you an easy option here - kill someone you don’t even know, or maybe we could go pay a visit to the family home, I am sure you got a mummy or daddy that’d be so happy to see you again - mh?”

That was a bold threat on his part, and by the look in his eyes, you can see he means it. “Jerome - Please, I’ll do anything you want - anything - but…”

“But...but...but...ifs buts and maybes, mean nothing to me, babydoll.” He grabs your chin, lifting your gaze to his, while your knees tremble to make the bells on your shoes jingle softly. “You wanna know why I choose you, girly? I could’ve chosen anyone, but I choose you - why, why did I do that? - answer.” He spoke again, voice dark and demanding, sending shivers down your spine.

“Because you liked - m-my laugh? And I reminded you of yourself.” You shake the words from your lips.

Jerome closes his eyes, rolling his head the side with a sigh, grabbing your body and turning you around so the back of your head was firmly against his chest. One of his hands to your forehead pulling it back, the other on your wrist pulling the revolver high, forcing you to aim straight. “You got the story wrong, tootsie - you poor little naive girl.” You try to squirm, but his strength overpowers your own, you can’t move under his clutches.

“I choose you because you were boring - a perfect test subject.” He laughs against your efforts and soft sobs. “You’re lying - you’re lying, I know you are Mister J.”

“Am I? That would be a first.” He tilts his head against your own, holding you so close. “I was never a gutless wonder, beautiful. I would have never shied away from pulling a trigger.”  
  
He was right.

He would never have.

You’re just pathetic in his eyes, no wonder he didn’t love you.

No wonder…

“How about we all just drop our weapons, nice and easy.” You hear a voice over Jerome’s heartbeat that sounds more like a pounding drum in his chest. He turns, letting go of you, pulling the revolver out of your hand as he leaves you behind, nothing more than a broken woman with legs that feel like jelly.

  
“Doc? Holy shit, small world.” Jerome is back to laughing, and you were falling on to heap on the floor, knees pressed together, watching from a distance with nothing more than the taser strapped to your thin fabric belt.

“Jerome -” A tall brunette with eyes like onyx, spoke back in a sharp ladylike voice.

“You’re a year late to our sessions, doc, I have a lot to confess, ya know...A lot has happened.” He said back as the lady moved forward with a man at her slender man at her hip, tall and well dressed in an emerald suit, accompanied a glasses and a black bowler hat.  
  
“We should leave - now.” He finally spoke, pushing his way in front of the woman. Jerome didn’t seem to like that, he relished always remaining in charge of the moment, for everything to be entirely under his control.

“But we just got here, Riddles - don’t you wanna have some fun again, like old times? I do have to thank you for the whole Arkham affair.”

“No - come on, Lee.” He tries to pull her back, but it’s no use, she’s as much as a toy as you are, as soon as she’s in Jerome’s sites; and Jerome just loves having things he can’t have.

  
“Ah, ah, ah. Do you think that’s wise Riddle boy? The adults are talkin’ here, why don’t you go play some games with my doll over there, she could use a laugh, her glumness is startin’ to bring me down.” He looks back at you, pouted his lips at the sorry mess on the floor, amidst your face between your knees.

The woman forces passed Jerome, when her eyes fasten onto you, weaving through the people with their hands above their heads. She bends down, kindly placing her hand on top of yours. You bet you look like an utter mess like this, especially dressed as a fucking jester of all things.

“Are you alright, what’s wrong?” She asks. “Has he hurt you?”

“Doc!” Jerome interrupts, pacing forward each snap of his shoe's against the polished cement closer makes your eyes wince back. “Y’know out of everyone, you’d think you would know how much I hate it when people touch my things…” That was Jerome’s polite way of saying, ‘back the fuck off before I put a bullet between your eyes.’

“I wasn’t asking you.” She snaps, looking back at your face, her eyes reeking of concern and worry. “What’s wrong with her skin - what have you done with her Jerome?!”

“Nuthin’, I ain’t sayin' shit doc, she’s just a lil peachy - plus I don’t think you should be insulting my pride and joy here, no matter what color her skin is,” Jerome argues back, still slinging the double barrel over his shoulder.

She maliciously laughs after, placing her hands on her hips full of authority. “She’s a person Jerome - not an item, remember when we talked about possession.”

You could feel this was getting heated fast, it wasn’t going to be long before Jerome had fully lost it, and the way she was talking up to him, she was lucky she still had a head attached to her pretty perfect shoulders.

“Jerome never hurt me, I -” You trail off, trying to find your words, but Jerome’s voice cuts over your own. “See doc, from the mouth of babes. It ain’t on me.” He raises his left hand, giving a shrug.

“Then that makes me feel a lot better, for what I am about to do.” Like a flash you, you feel yourself being grabbed, twisted and pulled, not like the way Jerome does it, more force - more fury. A sharp tingle stings your neck, like a misguided razor to your collar, it’s cold, long, a knife, straight along your jugular vein.

  
A certain panic runs through your body, yet your muscles tense hard as stone, trying to move. You’re this woman’s human shield, hostage, a whim to her blade. “Don’t come any closer, Jerome.” She shouted. You could see Jerome’s wrath grow from a mere five to a hardcore ten within a split second, she wasn't just touching his property now, she was using it against him, threatening him with it, toying with his toys and for the first time ever.

Jerome wasn’t smiling.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHHHH... No more mister nice guy.


	12. Pride vs Passion

 

Where did everything go amiss?

 

Somehow everything had just shifted upside down in the last few weeks, you remembered what a normal life felt like, it wasn’t as if you had simply forgotten that everything happening around you was wrong; you knew it was bad. The thought of it tugged at you every morning, although, it was the feeling itself that disturbed you, because deep inside your mind something told you that you just didn’t give a fuck, that somehow it was better just to play along - to be something, to feel something, to be wanted by him that made you stay.

 

Before him, life was bland, even when he was gone all day, the rush you got from seeing him next was more than anything you had experienced before. Now you weren’t sure if you could ever go back, the feasibility of it scared you, that somewhere out there your place was waiting for you to return. Dark, deserted, dust gathering on the benches. Everything was left just the same way as you left, except for the small number of books Jerome’s people had gathered for you, the smallest comforts of home, were no longer home.

 

A home was now simply wherever he was.

 

And that old life was no longer your own, just as your body was no longer your own, nor even your subconscious. Everything was fashioned and crafted to suit his demands, and even that was no longer what he desired. You failed him once and you weren’t going to let it happen again.

 

Because forever with Jerome was never promised and never said, he was a man that neither felt love or compassion, just a man desired obsession to possession; and that’s where he was wrong once again. You were more alike than even he comprehended, because he was just as much as your obsession as you were his possession.

 

It was time now that you just let the old you disappear, that meek little girl that Jerome neither required nor needed, he changed you for a reason, whether what he said was a lie or not. You could be whatever he wanted, or whatever you wanted. You just had to let go, and give in to desire instead of that nagging voice in your head that always said ‘no.’

 

It was time to let go.

 

Move forward.

 

Be the person you wanted to be, not the person you should be.

 

“Hold still, I don’t want to harm you.” Whispers still hushed in your ears from the sweet doctor, she just wanted Jerome to leave without harming anyone, the money is what she wanted, to sustain the hungry and clothe the cold. An honorable thief really, something maybe even yourself would let fly, but it wasn’t up to you, and Jerome had neither want nor need money, he got everything he desired through fear and dominance.

 

Maybe even Jerome would of let her have it before - before she had grabbed you, before she made the mistake of taking something that was not hers to touch, and that was the only theft here that seemed to matter in his eyes.

 

The idea made your stomach turn, a feeling you couldn’t deny, the idea that Jerome was furious and stricken with rage made yourself glow with radiance. If he was mad, it meant in a certain sort of way he cared, in a way Jerome could care. Maybe it was the only he could show it - through passion, malice, and wrath.

 

Nevertheless, he showed devotion, and it was better than none. As long as you knew in some way he felt something; just anything was enough.

 

Jerome’s gun now laid at his feet, with the man behind suited from head to toe, silver barrel pressed to the back of his head. He didn’t even seem to care that he as a trigger away from death, it was as if it didn’t bother him at all, he was just playing along, telling Crane at the door to do that same. “You think this wise, doc? You might have been all high and mighty in Arkham with that lab coat, but out here is the real world, and I am king of this fucking castle.” He persisted.

 

Whether it was intentional or not, with every breath you could feel the blade rubbing against your skin, just biting a little further in, till the point where you feel a soft trickle running down your neck.

 

“No funny business, Jerome. Leave and I’ll send the girl out - no one needs to get hurt.” She tried to argue, but it was a pointless endeavor.

 

“Oh nice deal doc, I’ll have to think it over.” He cocks his head to the side for a point of a second, before drawing back into line, with nothing but a sneer left on his face. “No deal.”

 

One foot steps forward, over the shotgun.

 

_“Don’t move!”_

 

You’re not really sure who called, your mind was overwhelmed with the fact the guy in green just knocked Jerome in the back of the head with the barrel of the pistol. He doesn’t appear hurt, there was an only annoyance in his eyes, but that’s beside the point. If anyone is going to hurt your Pumpkin, it’s you - not anyone else. How dare anyone touch him, he was yours - and if anyone was gonna pistol whip him, it should damn as well be you!

 

Within a split second, your blood was boiling out of control. You’re not exactly sure what happened, it was so instantaneous, you pushed back with force and heard a crack. Blood gushed from the doctor's nose, she wasn’t going to hurt you, but you had no problem with hurting her. Your feet slid, as Jerome stepped to the side as soon the man in green hesitated for a split second, knocking the gun from view.

 

The alarm went off, a consent sound rang your ears as your feet slid across the ground, like socks on polished floorboards. Your hand reached for your belt, tugging the taser into your grasp; each breath of air you took, the cut on your neck tingled with a sting.

 

The taser aimed high, arm out straight, Jerome’s eyes on you, watching, gazing, gawking. Your finger tightened, pulling the trigger with rage you have never felt ever in your life.

 

 _“Expelliarmus!”_ You yelled, firing the taser.

 

A large bolt of electricity shot from the end, hitting the man in green square in the chest, the gun dropping from his hand as he fell back onto the ground with a quivering thud.

 

_“HOLY SHIT!”_

 

Holy shit.

 

That was awesome.

 

“C’mon toots! It’s time to bail.” Jerome, grabbed you by the wrist as you ran to the front doors.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just write the reader shooting Edward Nygma with a taser while yelling, Expelliarmus?! Yes, yes, I did. 
> 
> You just Dumbledored' that motherf*cker...
> 
>  


	13. Oh. UnLucky Me.

 

  
They were the color of blood, a rich scarlet cooper, half welted, half dead or half alive, half beautiful. This wasn’t philosophy, they were simply the discarded remnants of what used to be a rose, now only the petals, laid out forming a trail on the carpet, resembling slightly more comparable to a crime scene the way they were arranged. The texture felt smooth like velvet between your fingers, soft to the touch leaving its fragrance on your fingertips.

The trail widened through the house, over surfaces, benches, chairs, tables. You followed with curiosity, minding your step not to tread on the path itself. Up the stairs, it took you, petals on each step, further and further they spread, more and more they came, red, scarlet, cherry, ruby, every shade of red, from light to dark filled your eyes.

Until the path stopped and just a single rose stood alone, green stem with thorns. Beautiful but dangerous and sharp enough to prick your thumb. Blood seeped from the wound, just a little yet enough to make it sting sharp like a razor, even just for a moment. You sucked your thumb, rose still in your clutches, now more careful and mindful.

You open the door that ended the path, it’s lighter on the other side, windows open, white curtains wafting in the breeze. It was raining heavy again outside, the sounds of rain surging in pipes fill your ears and the car tires splashing water as they drive by outside. This is your home, the life you left behind in exactly the same way you left it. Cups still in the sink, photographs on the table, a bed to the left, sheets pulled back and unmade. A book on the bench with a bookmark in between the pages, still holding its place ready to be read again.

Everything here was exactly the same, except you, a rose and the red-headed man standing by the open window. He looked the same way you felt inside, maybe the same way you had always felt deep down inside; lost in a place you didn’t belong.

“Pumpkin - Mister J.” You called, your voice sounded louder than you thought it would over the cold thin air, it seemed to echo off the walls over the sound from the rain outside. He didn’t reply, nor did he move his head, only but one white-gloved hand raised out, reaching for you. His thick long coat was black amongst the other dark tones of his attire, he looked somber, almost like another shadow of the house, except for his flaming red hair and pasty pale skin that absorbs every bit of light from the window.

Taking his palm, a shockwave ricocheted throughout your core, in a split second, you felt frozen as if you were bunked into a bathtub of ice cold water, then a scalding hot piercing sensation embraced your skin like a brand making your insides scream in pain, suddenly as quick as it started, it was gone and his baby blue eyes were fixed upon you.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you could not follow the simplest order, like following a path mh?” His smile widened, while you try to pull yourself back together and shake the strange feeling that keeps prickling the back of your neck and stirring your stomach. His eyes linger down at the rose pinched in between your fingers, or maybe the already drying blood your thumb.

You shrug your shoulders, trying to smile back, “Am I that transparent?” It was bluntly obvious to him, Jerome always seemed to be able to see through your cracks, and what laid in the far beyond, perhaps he even saw you better than yourself at times.

“You shouldn’t ask questions you already know the answer to, Tootsie.” His hand squeezes your own, placing you in front of himself, making you take a seat on the windowsill, the rain only barely hitting your back. His hands squeeze tighter, leaning forward Jerome kisses your forehead ever so softly, you want to enjoy this moment, make it last forever in your mind but your gut feeling is not so easily shaken.

“Why here?” You ask.

“Why not, This is your home, isn’t?”

You take his gloved hand pressing it to the side of your cheek, feeling his warmth. “It is now.”

He does not move, yet his face breaks with the words, eyes lingering down away from your own. “I am sorry, I failed you.” His spare fingers graze the gash your neck, forcing a wince of pain from your lips.

“You didn’t fail me, Jerome - not now, not ever.”

“Oh, but _I did.”_

You didn’t believe it, not even for a second. “Is that the reason for the roses? I like them.” You try to smile to show him you like them, but it does nothing, his face doesn’t move a muscle.

“Roses, to say sorry?”A tsk rolls off the end of his tongue. “Sorry...like I am _sorry_ I forgot our anniversary - _sorry_ I slept with your sister - _sorry_ I got ya knocked up?” His lip curls just slightly, taking the rose out of your hand to pinch a petal from the bud.

The petal dropped from his fingers, slowly being picked up by the breeze and carried out to the rainy streets below.

“You haven’t done any of those, Jerome.” Not yet anyway, and at this point… to have him say sorry for it, would mean enough to have it in the beginning.

“No, I’ve done far - far worse.” His jaw clenches, looking down at the streets from the window.

“The past is the past, pumpkin. Leave it where it is, every second is a new start.” You push his coat out of the way, to pull him in by the waist.

“The future is now, and I think we should paint it red and black.”

“The only thing that’s red and black, Babydoll, is funerals.”

“Depends on how miserably fucked up you are, I suppose.” You laugh. “For example, I could imagine myself wearing a black weddin’ dress - as long as I was standing next to Mr. Right.”

Jerome perks an eyebrow. “Hold on now, Mr. Right? What happened to dear old Mister J?”

You sway your head, biting your lip following his gest. “The same person, to me anyway.” You admit with a giggle.

“Sounds like my princess is looking for a prince charming that doesn’t exist.” He says sternly.

You breathe out, a tad glummer now. “No, my life is far too fucked up to be a fairy tale. Can’t I just settle for the villain and live in the moment?”

“Are you sayin’ I ain't a prince now?… cause that’s what it sounds like.” He folds his arms.

You roll your eyes. “Prince of Chaos?”

“You’re getting’ somewhere now at least.” He sways his head, “But you’re imaging the wrong life beautiful, you left that all behind...right here inside this house.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I can do whatever I want Jerome, so can you - fuck what anyone else thinks.”

Jerome gives you a blunt expression. “You’re not grasping the situation here.” His hand slips from your own, to hold your chin. “Don’t you feel it?”

You blink.

Then again.

And it hits you, like a fucking two-story bus.

 

“Red and black, it’s only for funerals.” You swallow looking down at the rose in his hand.

 

“Am I dead?”

“It took you long enough, toots.” His hand pushes your shoulder, causing you to fall back...you slip, feeling your whole body shift, moving, falling, the force overwhelms you to close your eyes. This is like the beginning, how you first met. He was going to push you out of a window, then he didn’t, but now he has - you were going to die.

 

Die.

 

Die.

 

Dead.

 

All stories end at the beginning.

 

And the last thing you saw, was staring up into the eyes of a monster, dropping the rose from his hand.

 

~

 

 

Beep - beep - beep.

  
Your eyes flutter open slowly, adjusting to the light and your current surroundings. You didn’t recognize any of this, not the ceiling, not the walls, not the tubes in your arms or the ones in your nose.

“Honey, sweetheart - can you hear me?” You remember the voice, it seemed like a hundred lifetimes ago was the last time you heard it. Your head was dazed and your site blurry, with no recollection of how you came to be here, or what lead up to it.

“Mum?”

Your response falls on deaf ears, blocked out her own scream. She clasps her mouth, standing with tears pouring down her cheeks, it was if you weren’t actually there, like she wasn’t sure show she was staring at. A doctor comes rushing in, white coat, all white, even his face. It’s like he doesn’t know how to react when he lays eyes on you. He pulls a small torch from his breast pocket, pulling your eyelids open as he shines it in, making you wince back in pain.

“Can you see?” He asks in a tone that is relatively nervous before he informs you of his name, beginning to giving you the whole rundown. They avoid the ‘do you know what day it is.’ it feels like it’s been a few days considering the way your back aches, therefore they skip straight to the basics, ‘what’s your name,’ - ‘how many fingers am I holding’ - ‘do you know where you are.’ You couldn’t return all of them, he did just blind you and that one eye felt sensitive, plus ridiculously irritated.

“Miss, do you know how you occurred to arrive at Gotham General Hospital?” He asks, the doctor was just a man who looked in his mid-forties with somewhat greying hair. But nothing is getting through to you with your mother in the background sobbing as she was, other than a splitting migraine you felt okay. All ten of your fingers moved, same with your toes, nothing felt broken either.

“I - I have no idea, I can’t - remember….” You try to look back, but the last thing you remember was the costume store, then there was the bank...maybe… it was all blurry after that. Which only raises a further question, where was Jerome? You turned your head, besides you was a rose sitting alone on a table in a vase. Your stomach twists, it’s not red though, no - it’s orange and fairly welted, as if it’s been sitting there for days, a tag hangs off the side of it, making you wonder what it says.

“Ma'am, I need you to concentrate. Think back if you can, it’s very important, it could help us understand -”

“Understand what?!” You almost pull your back upwards, yet you can’t with the doctor pushing you back, telling you not to move.

“Did you know you were a missing person?” The words have you puzzled, you were never missing, off the radar sure, but never missing.

“No…” You raise an eyebrow. You were almost tempted the pull the fucking tubes out of your nose, but it would probably hurt like hell.

“Well, you have some luck on your side. Not many people going missing in this city and turn up again after a month. If that's some constellation.”

_What the fuck does that mean?_

“Okay, cut the bull shit - just tell me what’s going on.” Your throat stings with the words and your mother's eyes greet you from across the room, red and swollen she glares at you like a stranger. Out of plan instinct you touch your face, it seems all there, a nose, lips, eyes, nothing feels odd or out of sorts, you definitely don’t look like Voldemort here, though everyone was giving you enough looks to suggest it.

“Miss, I think it’s better for your condition right now just to relax, you don’t need any unnecessary stress.” He loosens his hand on your arm. “We aren’t completely positive exactly what occurred, all we do know is that you were injected or you breathed in some kind of narcotic that was extremely toxic. We ran tests, but it has all come back inconclusive. However for a moment there we lost you.”

_Lost?_

_What the fuck did he mean by that?_

  
“C’mon doc, elaborate here, I am strapped to a bed.” You urge.

_“You died.”_ It was simply placed through it hit your stomach like a sack of bricks.

“I died, what do you mean ‘I died?”

“You were pronounced clinically for five hours. Then out of the blue…” He didn’t have to finish, you were obviously alive, as long as you weren’t a ghost, your hands were so freaking pale could be true.

“So let me get this straight, I came in contact with something toxic, then I died for five hours before I woke again?”

“Something like that, ma’am. We aren’t completely sure, but now that you are awake -” Your thoughts cut him off, you needed to find Jerome. Where was he? How did you end up here, he could very well be the only person who could answer that, it’s not like they seemed to know.

“I want a mirror before anything happens, I want a mirror.”

The doctor pouts his lips before looking back at the nurse and giving her a tilt of his chin. “Miss, please remain laying down, you’re not well enough yet to be moving around.” He drifted away, now your only sites were left on your mother, still coming to grips with whatever she was dealing with.

“Mum, what’s wrong? - just tell me.” The suspense was worse than knowing. She shifted towards you, grabbing your hand tight finally, muttering things under her breath that had your heart almost pounding out of your chest.

“You should never have moved away, I told you it was a bad idea - I should never have -”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop blaming yourself, this is not on you.” Moving here was your idea, and everything that happened in the last few weeks was all your fault.

Well, Jerome’s too.

But mostly your own, it was just a shitty domino effect of crap situations that got worse and worse, one after another. “At least whatever doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger, right?” You try to jest to cheer her up, for a moment she smiles and wipes away her tears.

“So in this predicament, I’d say I am either twice as dead or twice as strong.” You chuckle, but all it does is make you a cough, your lungs are sore as hell, maybe you did breath something in after all.

The doctor came back in, small mirror in hand, looking you straight in the eyes before handing it to you. “As you requested, though I must ask you stay lying down and try not to raise your heart rate, take deep breaths.”

Well for fuck sake.

“Well, I was never a looker before, doc. I think I can handle some scar tissue if that’s the problem.” You roll your eyes, taking the mirror in hand, closing your eyes you peer into it slowly.

You steady your breath, opening your eyes you look at yourself.

Swallowing in your throat you turn your head to the side.

“Well, whatcha say ma, do I have a face only a mother could love?” You drop the mirror and smile in her direction, causing her to start crying again.

Looks like comedy was still not your strong suit.

 

 

Well, fuck.

 

 

 

 

`


	14. Daddy's Little Monster

 

 

 

“It’s really not that bad.” You try to tell yourself, tapping your fingers against the basin of the sink staring endlessly into the mirror. “All I need is a little concealer, maybe some powder, okay, a lot of powder…” You huff, a finger running over your pale corpse colored skin.

“Some hair dye.” You note, brushing back the matted bed hair locks out of your face, now stripped of any color and left as pale as your skin. “At least on the bright side, I never have to ever bleach it again… that’s good, I suppose.” Yeah, you’ll save a lot of money at the hairdressers, that’s definitely an upside to his shitty situation.

Everything was at least remotely fixable, except one of your eyes was now a wholly different shade color as well, no wonder it made your mother cry. It almost looked an ice blue, bright and clear but only one. Your other eye looked fine, just as it as it always had.

A knock comes to the door, pulling you away as you finished braiding the back of your hair to the side in a loose french braid, leaving the fridge out to hang over your mismatched eye, for your mother's sake, more than your own.

You didn’t really give two fucks what you looked like, maybe you could have even liked your new appearance, it kind of made you look like the freak you were on the inside, whatever you had come into contact with, it was making your insides show on the outside.

You opened the door to find your mother staring at the welted orange rose by your bedside. Her fingers were on the tag. “Who’s J?” She asks, letting it drop from her fingers. “Just a friend.” You smile back, walking over to take a look for yourself, it was just a simple ‘J’ inside a love heart.

“A friend?” She raises a brow at you.

To your own dismay, you were wishing you were lying, even after everything. “Yeah.”

“Well, at least that’s something.” She huffs. “You should settle down sometime though, you can’t be alone forever - and it would just be nice if you stayed in contact with me, I thought you were kidnapped… I had to call the GCPD, file reports, you wouldn’t answer your phone, your apartment was empty - where were you?!”

“Taking a break after I got… fired from my job. Then after that, I don’t know.” You were only half lying.

“Taking a break? A break?”

“Yeah.” You hated arguing, you hated drama, it’s why you moved away in the first place to be away from all this crap, to be away from people in general. To just forget the past and start the future. However her comment about settling down annoyed you, though you normally kept your romantic endeavors to yourself, it did hurt to know that the only guy you ever really loved had possibly turned you away, worse ‘had’ done this too you against your will, but it’s not like you could make any assumptions, you couldn’t remember a thing.

The heart and the ‘J’ was now etched into your mind as stared at the dying orange petals, somehow it looked all too familiar almost like deja vu, though somehow it seemed to escape your mind.

Your mother yells your name. “Are you even listening to me?!” You look up and nod your head, “Yeah,” you repeat her last few words. You have felt odd since you woke up, normally at this time in the morning, your head would be swarming with sickness, almost to the edge of vomiting and now...nothing, nothing at all, the only thing that remained was the odd feeling that left your stomach twisted with unease.

Well, that and the nagging background noise that had you back in bed, pretending you were actually suffering as much as you were on the outside, so hopefully you would be left alone to contemplate how you were going to ditch this place without anyone stopping you.

Until you saw a face at the door that literally took your breath away.

Eyes peering so damn hard it was like seeing them for the first time.

Like strangers meeting.

Because you were like strangers.

And the silence between you was almost murder.

He coughed awkwardly and you had never seen this man show an ounce of nerves “Hiya.”

Seeing him like this, like ‘that’ was odder than seeing your own face. He was wearing a regular looking suit and his face, well… it looked normal, as normal as it possibly could be under those dorky looking glasses.

How much makeup was he wearing to get past security?  
It forces your eyes to the woman that used to resemble you, one who no longer does, because now no one will ever look like you ever again, not like this.

“Can we please have a moment alone?”

She nods her head, giving the strange ginger a sideways glance before leaving the room, giving you enough space to finally breathe again.

“Ya know.” He moves forward as soon as your mother leaves earshot. “I’d say you look good…but…” Jerome smacks his lips together leaving an eye roll to be your first response.

“Look who’s talking, I am fresh as a daisy.”

He lifts the hat from his head and pouts his lips, bringing the distance between you less and less. “I was going to say drop dead gorgeous, but now you're just being a bitch, so I am not going to compliment you.”

“Well, I did die. Thanks, considering you probably took part in it.” You mirror his pouted lips, fighting the urge to rip those dorky glasses from his face.

He shrugs his shoulders, pulling a seat to your side. “Guilty as charged Officer, gonna take me in and frisk me down? I know you wanna, but you wouldn’t be the first to abuse the privilege.”

“Fuck you.” You push him back with your foot, as much as you loved seeing him, another emotion of hating yourself for actually liking him was the dominant feeling at the moment. Plus he just admitted to killing you of all things, well you think he did, of course, he did. “So, are you gonna sit there with that smug look or are you gonna tell me what happened?”

“You don’t remember?” He raised a brow, almost like he thought you did know.

You crossed your arms at the pale ginger and his weird boyish face.“No, obviously, the last thing I remember is you being an asshole to me at the bank, saying you thought was boring.”

“Wow, that was a week ago, toots. Fuck, yikes…” He chuckled leaning forward closer to your hand. “We got home and you were super pissed at me and stormed off, locking yourself into the bedroom for four fucking days.” He raised both his eyebrows. “Anyway, I thought it was a good idea to leave ya alone, to deal with your moody girly shit - so I just did that… turns out it was a bad plan on your part to avoid your meds for so long, and you had gone off your head, like full blow bananas. Crane tried to calm you down and put you under but you strangled the shit out of him with an electric cord from a toaster.” He paused kinking his head to the side like he was almost amused, maybe you were too.

“Long story short, you might have broken something in the heat of rage and taken a whiff of something that wasn’t exactly made for you.” He finished.

“And that killed me and turned me into a fucking freak?”

“Baby, you were always a freak.” Jerome purred. “ Who the fuck strangles someone with a toaster cord, even on drugs? But no, It was an unforeseen event… okay, very unforeseen. But it’s not like you died for long anyway, I was in a tube for like a year once - you lucked out.”

“Forgive me, I don’t exactly consider myself lucky.”

“Ah, excuse me?” He said with a high cocky voice. “You’re in my presence, that makes you lucky.”

You kind of wanted to punch him in the dick for that, and you probably wouldn’t regret it either.

But instead, you change the subject before you can act on those little vivid fantasies “What’s with your face?”

He touched his cheek. “What’s wrong with ‘your’ face?!”

“You.” You huff. “No I am serious, your baby face is creeping me out.”

“I don’t have a fuckin’ baby face, Cruella de Vil.”

“Wow, that was insulting - nearly as much as YOUR BABY FACE.”

Jerome scowls in self-denial. “You’re so mean! I was ‘trying’ to steal someone's identity.” he pushed the dorky glasses up his nose.

“Someone who looks just like you, huh?”

“No.” He shakes his head like you’re an idiot. “Someone who ‘looked’ just like me, past tense. There’s a big difference, toots.”

To be honest you had no idea what the fuck he was talking about now. “Because there just so happens to be so many devilishly handsome gingers in Gotham.”

“No. There’s only one, and he has an affinity for scars and bitchy women.”

“He sounds like a real charmer, mind introducing me sometime?”

“Nuh, Victor Zsasz doesn’t want you.”

  
You roll your eyes. “I was talking about you, and since when does Zsasz has ginger hair?!”

“Why else would he shave off his eyebrows? That’s commitment to him not wanting anyone to find out.”

“He’s not a ginger and he doesn’t look anything like you.” You sigh, pushing yourself up in bed with a sore back. “Please just get me out of here, I am sick of fucking around… just take me anywhere but here.”

“That’s a good idea, except your mother scares the shit out of me… those eyes she gave me.” He smacks his lips together.

“Don’t be scared of her, be fucking scared of me if you don’t haul my ass out of here in the next five minutes.”

“So feisty, death suits you sweet cheeks, I’ll admit.”

“Except for the part where you made me a monster.”

Jerome shrugs his shoulders, grabbing your hand, pulling you out of bed. “Daddy’s little monster.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
It didn’t take long for you to locate a bag with your belongings, unfortunately, to your own discomfort, it was obviously packed by your mother from of your own wardrobe, from a shelve that should have never left the confines of your walls.

Lucky you.

Because if any female was going to be seen with the King of Gotham in a giant baggy sloth t-shirt with the worlds ‘I wuv snuggles.’ on it -

It would be without a doubt you.

“You know toots, I wuv-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Your hand slams down a pen on a spare piece of paper, a note of sorts explaining you were abducted by a pack of carnivorous guinea pigs. When in doubt, act crazy and plead insanity.

Out the window you go, fire escapes in tall buildings are so handy, and you had to admit yourself this is probably the stupidest thing you've ever done. Now you were just making up for never sneaking out as a teen, you had to wait till you were an adult to make idiotic decisions and go after the wrong sort guy your parents would have labeled as a ‘distraction or bad news.’ In which in this case Jerome was ironically the inclination of ‘bad news.’

And the kind of guy your father tells you not to date.

The kind of guy who seems all sweet and geeky with his red hair, baby blue eyes, and a great smile.

Although in reality, he’s just Pennywise the clown, _you know the attractive one._

“Hey toots, mind hurrying the fuck up?” You hear Jerome yell at you, to hurry your pace.

You sigh back, being up so high is nerve-racking “I coming.”

Unexpectedly he laughs jumping from the last step. “Oh baby, say it again. Mhm.”

“Screw you.”

You take the last step and you jump from the rail, feet landing on the hard cement in front of him.

“Ya’ know.” You feel two arms grab you around the waist, hot breath pressed to your neck. “If it’s any consolation doll, I am glad you didn’t stay dead,” Jerome whispered against your ear. “And maybe… I kinda missed ya…”

“Kinda?” You repeat his words in doubt.

“Okay, a little more, but don’t push it.”

“No” You barked back. “Say it.” You wanted to hear it, anything he had to say… how long could only one sided?

Jerome rolls his eyes to the side, swinging your arms around so you could see eye to eye. “I missed you.. _.a lot.”_

“And?” was there anything else? Anything…. Just anything.

His eyes study you, peering down, slowly your fingers laced together, palms tight. “Whatcha want me to say? I don’t know what you want.”

You huff looking down. Out of all the things he could say, you aren’t sure what you what you want to hear, because it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t mean it, and if you’re the one always putting words in his mouth.

Stepping back, you pull away from him. “I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s fucking helpful.” Jerome bunches his now empty fingers, crossing his arms. His face says it all, he is confused - maybe he doesn’t know how to please you, maybe he truly didn’t know what you wanted from him.

But how was he not to know how you felt?

He had to know.

Somewhere deep down.

“We’ve both died once now, I suppose.” You throw your nervous hands into your pockets, avoiding eye contact. “And I don’t fear the end, Jerome. I don’t fear death… But,” Your voice cracks between words. “I don’t want to die _alone_.”

Not again.

“You weren’t alone.” He swallows, moving forward. “I left you a rose remember, I was there.”

_Maybe…_

Maybe he was.

“You really were?”

He shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal, “yeah.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

Perhaps there were no words.

His long arms reeled you back in, close to his chest - he was inescapable, somehow, for some reason even though you knew it was wrong, bad, you still found yourself back where everything began, pulled back to where you want to be.

But what was doesn’t matter anymore, the old you was gone - dead - pushed away, forever never needed.

Long live your inner monster.

Now your outta being.

Your whole being.

  
“I want to be yours forever.” It was easy to say, it always was - but now you mean it.

Jerome’s hand pats the back of your hair, his chin resting on your head. “You already are.”

You didn’t know what was going to happen in the future, you didn’t care about the past, all that matters was now, standing in this alleyway, two freaks just being freaks.

“Forever?”

“And ever.” He replies, making you gaze your eyes up towards him.

At that moment, it sort of falls from your lips.

“I want you to marry me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Living Dead Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I was doing some editing and I found chapter 15... Don't say miracles don't happen.

 

  
“I said no, you’re already a freaking ball and chain as it is. I don’t need to put a fucking ring on it.” He hissed trying to squirm out of your arms. Jerome was being difficult, stubborn and frankly emotionally distant.

Pursing your lips, you decided to let go and instead cross your arms, folding them tight across your chest. “So you’re opposed to married then,” It was stupid just saying it. “To think, I thought you were a man who wasn’t opposed to anything, and here you are being a fucking coward.”

Jerome took a step forward, silent, pressing a thumb to your lips, shushing you still as the taller man over towered over you easily. “I am a lot of things, little girl, but a coward ain’t one of them.” His finger pulled down your lower lip as the tall man slowly lingered in. Was he going to kiss you? Here and now?

You stepped back, rejecting his kisses. “Jerome you ain't sweet talkin' your way outta this!”

He shrugged a smile that left you furious. “It was worth a shot.”

“Jerome Valeska, you said ‘forever’!!” Forever, was it such an easy word for him to throw around? He said you would be his… but wouldn’t that make him yours? Or was it all just lies…

Jerome turned his head, pinching his copper brows. “I did… but nowhere did I say ‘ monogamy ‘ tootsie…”

That was it, your blood was actually boiling now.

Lashing out you pushed his chest. “Fuck you, fuck your words, fuck your face!” You bark watching him scrunch up his nose. “You will marry me, Jerome Valeska, and you will make an honest woman outta me!” At times you were vulnerable, maybe even emotional, but never, never were you ever fool.

“Or what?” He yelled back, ignoring your rant.

“Or…” You threw up your arms lost for words. You loved him, perhaps too much for your own good. He was killing you, but that wasn’t the worst part. It was the part that you knew he was bad, so bad you actually enjoyed it.

By the time your thoughts came to you he was already pouting his lips, hands tucked into his pockets, that usual stance he glares that reeks of. “I won, I told you.”

But you were having any of that today. Your blood was raging and your head was feeling clearer than ever, it was like you were seeing for the first time and now everything made sense… Jerome made sense and everything else was fucking insane.

“Then I’ll guess this is it…” Whether you meant it or not, it still hit like a ton of bricks.

And Jerome’s face mirrored the feeling. “What did you just say?!”

You couldn’t tell if he was surprised or just generally pissed off, but neither looked good.

“I said this is it, you and me…” You rolled your shoulders. “I can see I am not wanted, I’d hate to impose.” Turning on your heels, you faced away, staring into the distance. You had nowhere to be, nowhere to go and yet you found yourself walking away, hoping to find that one thing that could make this feeling go away.

“Tootsie.” You hear Jerome call, yelling then swearing your name. “You can’t break up with me… I break up with YOU… fuck!!”

Closing your eyes, you can still hear him. “Get ass back here!”

You ignore him, knowing it wouldn’t last long, but it honestly took less time than you expected for him to physically react.

Two arms had grabbed you from behind, his strength easily overpowers your struggles. “I always knew you were a pain in the ass blondie, but fuck, you’re next level these days.”

“Get off me!” Trying to fight him was pointless, though you tried anyway, kicking your legs out as he lifted you off the ground.  
  
“No.” He replied. “I already kidnapped you once, it’s not like I can be locked up longer for kidnapping you two or three times more…”

Kidnapping… you would have gone along on your own accord, but this is what he wanted? This… again?

“You can’t… you won’t.” You hiss back. “You can’t drug me anymore, I am not your pet… you screwed up Jerome, you screwed me up… and now everything is fucked and it’s all your fault.”

“Yeah?” He whispered back. “Is that so?”

Yeah, it was.

“All I wanted was you… to be yours, to feel important.” You declared, pulling at his arm. “I don’t care if you don’t love me, I get it… but if you’re gonna keep me around, you can at least fucking pretend that you do.”

Was it that easy? He dropped you as soon as you said the words, spinning you around by your hand. His baby blue eyes grabbing you as hard as his hands. Odd, his eyes looked almost green in the light, you had never noticed it before.

“Is that all think of me?” He looked strange, you had never seen this look or the emotion that could be placed along with it.

“You haven’t given me a reason to think otherwise, Jerome. You’re a strange guy, I know, I get it, I understand that I like you... “ You breath. “A lot… more than I should, but I am not a fool either, I am not your fucking doll you can use then discard whenever you want. If you want me, then you have to mean it. Otherwise, you’re getting nothing more what you force, and if you do, it’ll never be real…. And it could be… I would like it if it was…”

It was the truth, plain and simple. No other guy would ever satisfy you as much as Jerome, you knew that well, especially the way you were looking right now as well.

“And…” He narrowed his eyes, complexed, contemplating his thoughts into words. “That’s what you want? Some fucking sham of a marriage… Doll, I took you for a lot of things, but never an idiot.”

His words hurt. “Being an idiot is being with and getting nothing in return, leaving me to wonder if you even care at all, having people think I am just some fucking whore you keep around. So yes, anything is better than that.”

Jerome took a breath in, swaying on his toes, looking away like he was actually thinking on it. “You know, I wouldn’t care if someone thought I was your whore… I would be pretty damn flattered.”

He was trying to get a smile out of you. It was almost working. “I don’t care. This is what I want, I don’t care what you think.”

“Marriage is for gullible idiots.” He tried to argue.

But you weren’t going to hear any of it.

“It’s also a great excuse to have a lavish party and for me to wear a fancy la de da dress.”

“Party huh?” He cocked a brow. “And what’s this about a dress?”

“Oh yes.” you watched his face finally shift. “It’s not every day Gotham’s most eligible bachelor gets hitched… I would say, a huge party would be in order. Also some cake, maybe stick of dynamite…”


End file.
